


We Got Something You Can't Undo

by neighborhoodninja



Category: Swimming RPF
Genre: Friendship, Gen, M/M, The Clique AU, alphas - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-25
Updated: 2013-04-25
Packaged: 2017-12-09 12:35:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/774256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neighborhoodninja/pseuds/neighborhoodninja
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Clique AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We Got Something You Can't Undo

**Author's Note:**

> ugh I'm really sorry.  
> In no way do I want to plagiarize Lisi Harrison's The Clique series, so…please don't report me to the authorities. Please.  
> I know we all read those books when we were preteen freaks, and I loved them, so why not make a Phlochte version…heheheheh. Based on the plots of the movie and the first book mashed together. Characters: Michael/Massie, Cullen/Alicia, Conor/Dylan, Nathan/Kristen, and Ryan/Claire. Um so yeah and all of the people at the school are gay, just to make things easier. And Ryan's suddenly the eldest child, and Michael doesn't have siblings. Please, just stick with me.  
> Title from Cher Lloyd's Oath.

"Ehmagawd, I know!" Michael Phelps says into the shiny screen of his iPhone, sitting neatly on his satin-sheeted bed and giving his pug, Hermia, a loving scratch on the head. "We have to hit Bennetton. No buts."

"Ehma-yes." Cullen Jones's voice crackles with cellphone static. "They have the cutest cable-knit cardigans that my mom had custom-made for me, and I have to go pick them up aysap."

Michael smiles, pulling Hermia into his lap. "Trust your mom to do that. Nate, you?"

"Um, I was hoping for Abercrombie…" Nathan Adrian mutters. Michael can hear the scratching of his pencil in the background. Gawd, what a nerd.

"Um. Nathan. Who actually does homework before school even starts?" Michael sighs, kicking his legs out in front of him. He needs a spa day even at the thought of that place. 

"Ikr!" Cono Dwyer laughs. "You need to seriously ease up."

Gawd, Michael loves conference calls.

"Okay, so here's the deal." Michael says, and he can just hear everyone snap to attention.

Gawd, Michael loves being an alpha.

They attend Baltimore's most prestigious high school, maybe in all of the East Coast, Walker Preparatory School for Boys. Filled with nerds, wannabes, jocks, and nobodies, Michael and his Royalty shine from the center brighter than the sequins on Anne Hathaway's 2011 Golden Globes dress. They sit on the very top of the pyramid, a formidable clique that no one would ever dare to touch, and Michael's at the top of the top. He hadn't even given his group the name of Royalty, it was bestowed on them as a peace offering by the losers who flanked them every day to classes. Boh-ring. 

But Michael loves it. Having the power, having the command. 

It's something he needs.

"At three, we're gonna hit Bennetton. Then Abercrombie." He huffs. It's so nawt his style, but he has to be fair to Nathan. "Then, if we have enough time left over, Dior Homme. I've been dying for their Greige tie."

"Sounds great, MP." Everyone choruses, and Michael smiles to himself, satisfied. 

"Good." He snaps his fingers loud enough so they could hear it. "Punctuality is essential. Not a minute late, or I'm having Isaac leave you here."

They all blew kisses into their phones as goodbyes, and Michael immediately plugs his into its charging socket. He'd be using it ah-lot from now on. 

"I love you." He tells it, kissing its gorgeous glass screen and admiring the custom-made Ted Baker leather case. Hermia whimpers from his bed, and Michael laughs, taking her face in his hands. "But I love you more!"

The puppy had been a present from his mom for his birthday, and Michael had fallen in love with her on sight. He gives her a kiss on her wet nose, then turns to his closet. 

Just as he's holding up a blue flannel from Rag and Bone's latest collection to his slim torso, his mom bursts in. Michael squeaks, throwing the shirt over himself.

"Ehma-ever-heard-of-knocking?!"

His mother just envelops him in a hug. Michael sighs, but he squeezes her back. He doesn't get to see his parents that often, since they were almost always on a business trip or relaxing in the Caribbean.

"What's up, mom?"

"Nothing much, honey." She smiles. "But I'm sure you're excited for this afternoon?"

His mom always knows just what to say. "Opposite of no! Dior Homme's FINALLY open, and Conor promised that we'd get the Greige tie together."

His mom looks puzzled. "Honey, are you planning on going shopping?"

Michael rolls his eyes. "Mom, name one week this summer that I haven't."

"Because today, you can't go." 

What?

Michael lets out a nervous laugh. "Um, what?"

"Well, don't you remember? Your father's college friend Steve and his family are moving in today!"

Michael stands in shock for a few seconds, mouth opening and closing. His brain can only supply single words.

Friend…college… Steve…family…moving…in…today.

And it all sinks in.

"EXCUH-USE ME?" He screeches and his mother grimaces.

"Michael Fred, we do not shout in this house!"

"Are you telling me I have to stay home for some stupid meet and greet sesh with people from FLORIDA?!"

"I am." His mother says firmly, and Michael can tell she wasn't going to budge. "And you'd better put some clothes on, right this instant. It wouldn't do to greet your new friend like that."

"FRIEND?!" 

"Well, I'm sure you two will get along just fine."

Opposite of yes.

 

 

After making an emergency call to the Royalty and claiming the tried-and-true bad sushi excuse, Michael slumps onto his bed, burying his face in Hermia's fur.

"Herm, what am I gonna do?" He says sadly. "I don't wanna meet these LBRs from, like, Orlandork."

Michael makes a mental note to tell that one to his friends later. His REAL friends. He hears the door opening and lots of happy sounding voices, hellos and come ins.

How could everyone else be so cheerful when he was suffering?

"Michael, come down here!" His father calls, and Michael groans, pushing himself up.

"I am fabulous, I am fabulous, I am NAWT an LBR, I am fabulous." He tells himself as he musses up his hair a little in the front. Nathan read that a messy back was trending, and of course, Michael doesn't follow trends, he _sets_ them. Besides, front is way more flattering.

He stomps down the stairs as loudly as he can, and arrives with a pout on the landing.

A cloud of cheap cologne and perfume immediately fills his sensitive nostrils, and Michael lifts a hand to his nose, afraid that this'll cause respiratory problems in the future. An tanned, blond woman rushes toward him, in a horrific pink tank. Ike Lochte, as he'd been told. Pink was LAST summer, she should have at least known that.

"Michael! You've grown so much, dear!" She says as she pulls him into a smothering hug. Michael grimaces inwardly. He does nawt remember this woman, and had no intention of doing so.

"Hi, Mrs. Lochte." He says as rehearsed, plastering his professionally-whitened smile onto his face. She seems to think it's legitimate. 

"Son, you're going to be overtaking me before I know it!" Steven Lochte booms, clapping a hand on Michael's pointy shoulder blades and drawing it away quickly with a wince. Michael smirks to himself. It pays to be skinny.

His father, Fred, looks meaningfully at him. "Michael, would you like to help the Lochtes unload their things?"

Michael grimaces. His body probably couldn't take the strain. "Um, isn't Gloria on that?" Gloria is their all-around help lady around the Phelps estate, taking care of everything from giving Michael bubble baths when he was four to chasing the occasional cockroach out of the English walled-style garden. 

As if on cue, the door bangs open again, and two kids come tumbling in, laughing their heads off. 

"Brandon! Devon!" Ike scolds, and Michael steps cautiously back. They could be carrying germs. "Where's your brother?"

"He's getting the last trunk…" Brandon says happily, already eyeing Michael. He looks like he's only five, at the most. Before Michael can do anything, Brandon rushes forward and grabs onto the hem of his eight hundred dollar Rag and Bone shirt.  
"Awesome! It's so…blue!"

"Ehma-" Michael starts, but silences himself with a glance from his mother. He steps back and tries to smile. Devon, who looks maybe twelve, comes forward and grips Michael's hand. Devon's is cold and clammy, and Michael wants him to just let go already.  
"I'm Devon. Pleased ta meetcha." He drawls, and Michael prays that he's the only Lochte to have this unfortunate trait.

Michael grimaces and shakes, trying more to get him off and out the door and back to Florida, but then a sharp buzz fills the room and a shock goes up Michael's wrist.

"EHMAGAWD!" Michael screams, jumping away, with Devon giggling uncontrollably and accepting a hi-five from Brandon. A tiny metal hand buzzer falls to the ground.

After they were both scolded and sent to their rooms, which were in the coach house at the edge of the estate, Michael tried to breathe. He was getting more and more pissed every second these Floridians stayed at his house.

"I'm sorry, dear. I just don't know what to do- " Ike begins, but she's interrupted by the door banging open again and a tan, tall boy stepping through who could only be Ryan.

Michael immediately goes into critic mode, turning up his nose and giving Ryan his best I-look-down-upon-you gaze. His delicate nose is immediately assaulted with the reek of sugary… gummies. Ehma-ew. Ryan has a pack of them in his hand, and at least five in his mouth, judging by his rodent cheeks. Michael looks further up and has to clutch the railing. Ryan wears lime green basketball shorts and a Cheeto-orange Gators tank, which exposes his chafing, sunburned arms. His hair is a total "before." Frizzy curls stick out in every single direction, and Michael wants to get upstairs to his room and hide in his walk-in closet before that thing eats him alive. 

The only thing acceptable is his face in general. His ocean-blue eyes contrast nicely with his tan, Michael has to admit that, and his nose is a good straight line down. His lips are, okay, pouty and pink. But whatever. He's wearing a freaking ORANGE shirt with GREEN shorts.

"Hey!" Ryan drawls, and Michael recoils, gagging mentally. He is _nawt_ going to shake this guy's hand. But Ryan just comes up and grabs his, and Michael can feel the fat from the gummies transferring to his skin. "You must be Michael!"  
Michael doesn't even bother smiling. "Yeah."

"I'm so glad you're letting me sleep in your room!" Ryan grins, annoyingly sunny. "I really appreciate it!"

What?

"Um…" Michael laughs, dismissing the idea. "You're sleeping in the coach house with the _rest_ ," he put emphasis on that word, "of your family."

Ryan looks puzzled, but Michael's dad clears his throat. "Michael, unfortunately there wasn't enough room for all of the Lochtes in it, especially with Ryan's two younger sisters as well. So you're going to share your room with Ryan."

What?

Michael feels his stomach slowly sink into a forming pit of dread. 

His beautiful, pristine white room.

Is about to be taken over by a Cheeto-colored, gummy-chomping, sunburned, loud FLORIDIAN.

"Michael? Are you alright?" Steve looks at him, confused. His words just echo in Michael's head and bounce away.

"Fine." Michael mutters, but that answer? Opposite of true.

 

 

Later, after their parents had gotten through all the "How's the aunt" and "Oh really?"s of the conversation, Michael's mother told him to show Ryan around. Michael stomps loudly up the stairs, not bothering to make sure that Ryan's following him. He throws open the door to his room, a plan already brewing in his head. 

Then it hits him. Ryan doesn't know his reputation yet.

Michael smiles to himself. Best to take him by surprise. "So…" He says lazily, examining his nails. "This is my room."

He already knows that Ryan's jaw is hanging open. Michael can't stand to think of his bare feet tracking in god-knows-what on his plush carpeting. Ugh. Time to get him out of there.

"Awesomeness." Ryan breathes, making a move to sit on the bed, but Michael puts a lotion-softened hand out in front of him. As if he's been under Michael's command his whole life, Ryan halts immediately. "What's up?"

"And you are nawt," Michael hisses, dragging Ryan out the door, "Repeat, NAWT going to sleep in there."

"What? Why…what…" Ryan says, struggling, and Michael pulls him down the stairs, stopping at the landing. 

"Listen up." He raises an eyebrow. "You're going to go along with whatever I do."

"But- "

"No buts."

"Why are you- "

"Ry-uhn." Michael sighs. "Did I order a coffee?"

Ryan looks confused. "Um, no…"

"Then why are you all up in my mug?"

That said, Michael takes him into the kitchen, where the parents were all congregated. 

"Mom, Dad, Mr. and Mrs. Lochte…" Michael looks down at the floor. "I'm afraid there's a problem." 

"What?" Debbie asks. "What's wrong, dears?"

"Well, you see…" Michael pouts. "The moment Ryan touched Hermia, he started coughing and sneezing and his hand got all red and rashy!" Michael digs his nails discreetly into the back of Ryan's hand and drags them up and down. Ryan makes a pained noise, but Michael elbows him to shut him up. Puh-lease. He tugs Ryan forward and shows the parents his inflamed hand. "Look…"

"Oh, no!" Ike frets. "Ryan, that's never happened before!"

"I know- " Ryan starts irritably, but he shuts up as Michael nudges the side of his foot a little harder than most people would. "I know. But it's really awful!"

"Oh, dear, oh dear…" 

"Well, Michael, I'm afraid we're going to have to accommodate Ryan somehow." Debbie thinks for a while, and Michael proposes his new plan.

"How about Ryan sleeps in the guest room?" Michael smiles sunnily, the way he knows would win anyone over.

"Oh, no! We just won't allow Hermia in your room anymore!" Debbie claps her hands. "Solved!"

No.

"Um, I think…" Michael begins, but Fred cuts him off. 

"That'll be fine. Ryan, you can still sleep in Michael's room."

No.

"You two are going to be such good friends!"

Michael has to grip the wall again just to keep from passing out.

 

 

_Monday_

Michael doesn't speak to Ryan successfully for an entire two days, claiming the bad sushi excuse. It's only when school starts that he even sees Ryan, dressed in an electric blue tee and red shorts. Ugh. Cut the Sherwin-Williams theme.

Michael rolls his eyes and sweeps out the door, leaving a trail of Chanel Bleu and finely scented Brooks Brothers cotton. Isaac is waiting for him outside as usual. But when he gets one leather shoe in, Ryan is sitting in his normal seat in the Escalade, popping gum. Michael lets out a yelp of surprise.

"Um, what are you doing in here?!" He demands, and Ryan looks effectively stunned.

"Uh- "

"Never mind." Michael sighs. "Can you, like, move to the back? I have to pick up my friends."Ryan looks a little hurt, but Michael could care less.

"Yeah, sure."

Michael whips out his phone and texts Cullen as Isaac makes his way toward his house.

_When you come in the LBR factor will be higher than Robert Downey Jr. outside of rehab. Get ready._

Cullen texts back immediately.

_What?! M, what's going on?!_

Isaac pulls up in front of Cullen's Spanish-style mansion, and Michael smiles with pride as he sees Cullen waiting outside. He does a quick outfit run-over. Cullen wears a vintage Ralph Lauren polo and elegantly cut khakis, paired with leather Bill Blass oxfords. A sure-fire 9.5.

"Heyyy!" Cullen says as soon as he gets in, and Michael smiles and gives him a hug.

"Hey, Culls. Ralph loves you today." 

"And I love Ralph." Ralph Lauren was Cullen's signature move, and he pulled it off well. Cullen's eyes roam over Michael's outfit, taking it in. 

"Brooks Brothers button-down. Versace jeans. Chanel loafers." Cullen grins. "10. Of course."

"Oh, thank you, dear."

Ryan clears his throat from the back and Cullen whips around. "Ehma- " He lets out a breath. "Oh. God, you scared me."

"Sorry." Ryan mutters, chewing a gummy. 

"Cullen, this is Ryan. Ryan, this is Cullen." Michael rolls his eyes.

"Nice to meet you." Cullen mutters absentmindedly, pulling out his phone.

Michael makes a face, then his phone dings.

Cullen: Do we like him?

Michael: No.

Michael angles the phone just a little, so he knows Ryan can see it.

They stop at Conor's house next, a French estate that always smells like roses. Conor's mother's a kind-of celebrity, with her own gossip channel and TV show. Conor waits outside, wearing a forest green J. Crew v-neck with dark Sevens. Solid 9.

"Lahv the outfit, Con." Michael says sweetly as soon as Conor climbs in. Their scents are all mixed: Michael's Chanel Bleu, Cullen's Blue Polo, and Conor's Gucci Guilty. It's a familiar fragrance that Michael treasures whenever they're all together, and it makes him feel warm and safe.

Then it's broken by a loud smack and a waft of bubblegum and sickeningly sweet calories, and Conor looks behind him.

"Whoa! I didn't see you!" 

"Yeah…" Ryan smiles almost apologetically. "I'm Ryan. I'm, um, staying at Michael's house."

"For, like, how long? And since when?"

"Um- "

"Ahem!" Michael clears his throat. "I think we're at Nathan's house now." Conor falls silent, smirking to himself. 

Michael's phone dings again. 

Conor: What the.

Michael: I'll explain later. Don't worry he's NAWT a BLU. 

BLU stood for Boy Like Us, a term Michael had coined proudly along with LBR (Loser Beyond Repair.)

Nearly everyone at their school was gay, including Michael and his group. It had just come to be accepted that Walker Prep was that fabulous, however, and no one really cared anymore. In fact, it had gotten to the point that the straight ones were the outcasts. It just allowed Michael and the Royalty to express themselves even more freely. He couldn't get a read on Ryan, didn't want to, didn't care. It didn't matter if he was kind of hawt, because Michael had bigger fish to fry. I.e. Matt Grevers, the most wanted guy at their brother school, Thompson Academy. Just thinking about him made Michael feel all warm and bubbly.

Isaac pulled up in front of Nathan's house, which was considerably smaller than the rest of theirs, but giant nonetheless. Nathan wore an oversized Kmart tee, with baggy sweats and Nikes. Michael knew that Ryan was thinking that he'd found another of his kind.

But as soon as Nathan was ushered into the car and hugged, he slipped out of those hideous scraps of fabric and unveiled his ah-mazing outfit. 

"Gorgeous." Michael proclaimed. "Love the Topman Oxford, Nate."

Nathan smiled shyly. It was an old hand-me-down from Michael, and just projected Michael's style with its pearly buttons and clean lines. "Well, thanks. Rate me?"

"Hmmm…" Conor said, munching on a trail mix bar. "Michael?"

Michael examined the cream-white shirt paired with the dark jeans. "9.3. No more, no less."

"Yes!" Nathan pumped his fist in the gesture they all knew so well. Nathan swam for Walker Prep, and his hair sometimes suffered for it. But thanks to Michael's coveted spa days, he always recovered well and ended up just as gorgeous. 

Ryan cleared his throat, and Nathan turned around, surprised. "Um, MP, who's this?"

"Oh, it's just Ryan." Michael said with a wave of his hand. "He's staying at my house because his family couldn't afford their own."  
Michael knows it's a slap in the face for Ryan, but dammit, that boy made him miss his pre-school shopping festival. And he's been just pissing him off for the last week. And he made his dog evacuate faster than the Katrina victims. Nawt interested.

Nathan shoots a pitying look in Ryan's direction. "Well, my name's Nathan. Nice to meet you."

"Nice to meet you, too." Ryan mutters, and Michael can hear the hurt in his voice.

"Ryan." He says sweetly, turning around. "When we get to school, you're going to have to fend for yourself. You're going to be among your own people, the LBRS, and you can't follow us around."

Ryan frowns. "Um, what's an LBR? You've said it, like, a thousand times so far and…"

Cullen snickers. "Nothing."

Michael turns back around, satisfied. With luck, he'll lose this Ryan Lochte before they even get through the doors.

 

 

Unfortunately, Ryan trails them into the front hall all the way into the café section, and Michael gets more and more irritated with every step. Nathan tries desperately to point Ryan in the way to his classes, but the kid just can't get it in his head.

"Burberry trench, no punch backs." Cullen says, bopping Michael's arm, and Michael laughs as he sees the trademark plaid coat pass them.

"Ugh. Last season."

"Point." Cullen lifts a finger, but their moment's ruined by Ryan's chomping on the gum. That freaking sound is following Michael everywhere, and he does NAWT want to hear it one more time than necessary today.

"Um, Michael, where do I go?" He asks kind of meekly, and Michael rolls his eyes dramatically, spinning around to face Ryan.

"Ryan, am I made of Saran wrap?"

"Um. No, but- "

"Then why are you being so clingy?"

Conor cracks up and covers his mouth with his hand. Michael smiles. "Geology is on floor 3. Just make a right, then another right, then another. And then another. Then go out the door." He raises an eyebrow. "And back on the interstate to Florida."

Ryan looks actually hurt, and he frowns. "Dude, what is your problem? I just asked you- "

"Do I look like I want to be seen with an LBR like you?" Michael hisses. "Opposite of yes! Now, scram!"

Ryan steps back as Michael gets in his face. "I still don't know where the hell to go, and you're acting like you freaking hate me, so- "

"Ryan, did I invite you to my BBQ?"

"No- "

"Then why are you all up in my grill?"

Michael crosses his arms and waits expectantly, tapping his foot. He can see Ryan's jaw clench.

"Michael, are you a female dog?"

Michael's eyes widen. "Excuse me- "

"Because you're acting like a real bitch!" 

Ryan stomps off in the wrong direction, leaving Michael and the Royalty with their steaming, low-fat lattes and mouths open. Michael recovers first, turning to his friends.

"Well, boys, you know what to do."

They all nod, and Nathan puts a comforting arm around Michael's shoulders. "I can't believe he called you that."

"No worries." Michael smirks. "We'll teach him how things work at Walker Prep."

 

 

_Second Period_

Ryan walks into his Drawing and Sculpture class with a heavy sigh, taking an easel at the very back of the class. The day has sucked royally so far.

When he came to Baltimore, Ryan was, okay, excited. Even though he was sad to leave his friends in Orlando, he thought that Michael would probably be just as cool. Maybe even cooler. But so far, Michael has ignored him, scratched a mark into the back of his hand, humiliated him in front of his friends, and god knows what else he has up his imported-cotton sleeve.

Cullen and Nathan walk in, whispering to each other about something, and Ryan can see the entire room straining to hear. That clique has the whole school under control, something Ryan could tell even the moment he walked in. Michael's scathing comments to the poor upperclassman who dared look at them for longer than acceptable was enough. The guy had been looking at Michael's Prada satchel with interest, but his head snapped up and he shrank back when Michael saw him. 

"Excuse me, do you work at US Airways?" Michael had demanded, and the guy looked ready to die. The whole class's eyes were on him, and the hall was completely silent.

"Um, no- "

"Then why are you checking out our bags?"

The entire hallway had erupted into fits of giggles, and Michael had strode triumphantly past, holding his hand up in a gesture of humble victory. Ryan had just followed behind them, wondering if he really did look like some loser barnacle. At least Michael was convinced of that. Ryan had no idea what he had done to make Michael hate him so much, but he'd heard mutters of shopping trips and Dior Homme ties passed around Cullen and Nathan. 

Art was one of the subjects Ryan loved the most, and he had to admit to himself that he was, okay, pretty darn good at it. But surprisingly, Nathan and Cullen take easels on either side of him. Ryan raises an eyebrow.

"Hey, Ryan." Cullen smiles. "Michael says he's sorry for whatever he did to you."

Ryan chews on his lower lip, a habit whenever he's nervous. So far, all Nathan and Conor have done is said hi and laugh at Michael's insults. He doesn't know if he can trust them yet. "Um…"

"So, yeah." Nathan says, waving his hand in what is a carbon copy gesture of Michael's. "You can ruh-lax."

Ryan smiles nervously and goes back to mixing his paints. "Ha. Okay."

What he doesn't catch is Cullen and Nathan smirking at each other across Ryan's back.

The old French guy who teaches the class goes to the front and starts putting the bowl of cherries in place. They're supposed to do a still-life of them. 

Ryan quickly gets into his zone, prepping his canvas and starting in on the outline of the bowl. Once he's done with that, he starts filling in the rounded cherries with a dark red.

Cullen walks behind him to get more paint, but he stumbles and puts a hand on Ryan's lower back to steady himself. "Sorry, Ryan."

"It's fine." Ryan mumbles, not focused anymore. 

He doesn't get why Cullen and Nathan are laughing so hard.

After the class files out, Monsieur Duval is looking at him funny. Ryan frowns.

"Um, sir, is there anything wrong?"

The guy flushes and gestures to Ryan's pants. "Er, mon petit garçon, you may want to see the nurse."

Ryan looks down, but there's nothing. "Uh…yeah, I guess."

He walks down the hall, confused, and it seems like with every step he takes, it sets off a fresh wave of giggles from the other students. Ryan's actually starting to freak out, so he goes up to a reasonably-nice-looking guy with a blue blazer slung over his shoulder. Clearly a Michael worshipper.

"Uh, do you know where I can find the nurse?" He asks, blushing. Ryan misses his old school more than ever, especially his best friends Kyle and Peter. He still has the hemp bracelets they got together on the boardwalks when they were little tied around his wrist. Michael, being as prissy and stuck-up as he is, took one look at them and said, "Ry- _uhn_ , you are nawt coming near me with those things." in the hallway. He then pronounced Ryan's wardrobe Orlan-dull, flipped his Hermés scarf over his shoulder, and walked off to get a latte.

This, first of all, was not even accurate(Ryan was from Gainesville, duh) and how dare Michael insult stuff that his freaking best friends gave him? He hadn't even known Ryan for a week.

Ryan snaps back to the present to see the guy smirking at him. His groupies snicker. "Yeah, it's just down the hall."

Ryan smiles gratefully and walks off, to the loud laughing of the guys. When he finally reaches the nurse's office, she frowns. 

"What's wrong, dear? You look fine to me."

"I really don't know, but the guy sent me- " Ryan spins around and is interrupted by the gasp of the nurse.

"What happened to your pants?!"

Ryan looks over at his butt and his eyes widen. There's a huge red blotch all over the back, and it looks like…

Paint.

Nathan and Cullen.

Ryan groans and rubs over his face with his hands. Dammit.

 

 

_Lunch_

Michael rounds up his posse outside the cafeteria, scrunching his nose at the scent of fatty carbs and oils. Gawd, he's so glad they have a sushi bar.

"Okay, so." He narrows his amber eyes, cocking his head. "The commoners are going to be watching our every move the moment we walk in there. To the beat of…" 

"Hollaback Girl?" Conor says, combing through his light brown hair.

"Ugh, no. She's so over."

"Wannabe." Nathan suggests.

"Yes." Michael snaps his fingers. "Formation!"

They all get in place, Michael in the center, Cullen at his right and Conor at his left. Nathan stands next to Conor.

In this moment, Michael feels so powerful, so in control that he can do absolutely anything, and no one could ever stop him with his friends at his side.

Which, in itself, is pretty much true.

Because he is Michael Phelps, alpha of Walker Preparatory, and he is a monarch.

Humming the beat under his breath, he pushes open the door of the cafeteria and strides confidently inside. It's like Brangelina just walked in, because there's a simultaneous intake of breath from all the tables. Michael feels the rest of the school's eyes hungrily devouring his clothes and hairstyle, trying to decipher even the most minute change in trend. He allows the smallest smile onto his face as they take their normal spot at table eighteen, after grabbing pita wraps and all-natural green juices. 

"Success." He says, looking out fondly over the sea of students. If only they knew.

Chuck Marsdale and Johnny Coleman, two HAWT lacrosse guys, come up and give Michael a smile. "Hey, Michael." Johnny says, smiling carefully.

They're at least their own alphas of the lax team, and Michael allows this. "Hey, guys."

"So, you guys coming to the game this weekend?" There's a silent begging in it, and Michael catches it. He smirks, knowing he has them completely under his control.

"Mm, I don't really know…" He says, looking up at them and narrowing his eyes. "Who're you playing?"

"St. John's."

"Ehma…" Michael makes a face. "When is it?"

"Around five on Saturday…you free then?"

He won't go, but Michael decides to lead them on just for the fun of it.

"Do you think you could maybe push it back to six?" The boys' eyes widen. "That would fit with our schedule."

"Uhh…" Chuck stammers.

"Yeah, yeah of course!" Johnny covers for him, stepping forward eagerly. "We'll talk to coach about it!"

"Good. Maybe you'll see us there."

After they walk away, Cullen leans in to consult with Michael. "Are we actually going?"

"Hell no." Michael rolls his eyes. "Boh-ring."

Cullen smiles and his dark eyes cut to the door. "Look who's here."

Michael looks up and sees Ryan standing awkwardly in the cafeteria line, a plate of tacos and Mexican rice on his tray. "Ehma-LBR alert."

He assumes his signature critical expression as Ryan walks past their table, not looking at them. Michael watches Ryan set his tray down at a table in the back, by himself, and feels a little twinge of something in his chest. But he quickly swats it away. Ryan doesn't deserve any feelings from him.

"After school…" He motions for everyone to lean in. "Let's get Isaac to drive us over to Thompson so we can watch Matt get out of school."'

Conor makes a giddy noise. "Done."

Michael looks expectantly at Cullen and Nathan.

"Done."

"Done."

"And done." Michael finishes, smirking. "This is going to be buh-yootiful."

 

 

_Lunch, Ryan's table_

Ryan pulls out his phone and sends a text to Kyle ridden with unhappy emoticons. Like always, Kyle faithfully responds.

Kyle: What's up, Reez?

Ryan: Michael and his "royalty." Ugh x10 :( :( :(

Kyle: ! What did they do????

Ryan: Nathan and Cullen rubbed red paint all over the back of my shorts and it looked like i got a guy period.

Kyle: …um. Immature much?

Ryan: Ikr. I mean cmon we're in 9th. 

Kyle: Just ignore them

Ryan: Dude. I'm living at his house.

Kyle: I know…miss you :(

Ryan: U2 I gtg lunch. LYLAB!

Kyle: :D

Ryan sighs and puts his phone back in his pocket, and he looks up to see that three boys are setting their trays down across from him.

"Hey, are you new?" The one in the middle says. He has messy blondish-brown hair and blue eyes that remind Ryan a little of Kyle.

"Yeah. You?" Ryan smiles. He hasn't actually talked to anyone the entire day so far.

"No…but are you friends with you-know-what?" The boy grins. "You don't look like the type."

Ryan rolls his eyes. "Wish I was."

"Um, no. You do not, trust me." The boy on the right says. He's obviously Japanese, with straight black hair that sticks up and glasses. Ryan looks curiously at the guy. He seems nice.

"Oh. Sorry, are you guys actually friends?"

Ryan snorts. "No. Know what he said to me?"

"Oh god. What?"

"He asked me if he invited me to his BBQ, and I said no. Then he asked why I was all up in his grill."

The guy on the left laughs. He's a real redhead, a smattering of freckles covering his nose and emerald green eyes. "Ah, the famous Michael insults. Don't worry, you can't feel the sting after a while."

Ryan smiles. These guys had clearly been on the receiving end more than enough times. "I'm Ryan Lochte, by the way." He says. What the hell. They seem fine.

"Cool. I'm Will Posner." The guy in the center says, grinning. 

The boy on the right nods at Ryan. "I'm Hayao Takahata." Will snorts. "Shut up, okay?"

The guy on the left laughs, clapping a hand on Hayao's back. "I'm Jack McDougall. Nice to meet you."

"You too." And it really is. Even through only a short conversation, Ryan doesn't feel as lost. 

"You from around here?" 

"No." Just thinking of Florida makes Ryan's heart dip. "I'm from Florida."

"Oh my god are you serious? That's so awesome!" Hayao says, grinning. "I love that place!"

Not as much as I do, Ryan thinks. But he has to put his homesickness behind him. Because, if his gut is really right, he's just made three new friends.

 

 

_After School_

"Shut up, shut up!" Michael hisses as Conor lets out a signature burp, slapping at his knee. "He'll be coming out any minute."  
They're hiding out in the bushes at Thompson, Michael with a pair of high-tech binoculars, and staking out their newest victim: the elusive Matt Grevers. 

"Ehmagawd, I think I see him, I think I see him." Nathan mutters, shielding his eyes from the sun. "Looks like Leo DiCaprio, before he got doughy."

"Nathan, everyone here looks like Leo before he got doughy. It's a fact." Michael snaps, surveying the area.

And then he sees him, in all his tan and blond glory. Matt Grevers.

"Ahhh." Michael lets out an appreciative sigh. "Just look at that."

After fawning and gushing over the tenth-grader until he got into his limo and sped off, Michael motioned to Isaac, who was waiting patiently at the corner. 

"That made my day." Cullen says dreamily, fanning himself with his HTC evo. 

"Forget _day_ , more like life!" Michael taps Isaac's shoulder. "Isaac, don't forget about next Friday."

Every Friday, Michael hosted a sleepover at his estate for only himself and the Royalty. It was one of the most sought-after events at Walker, and if you scored an invite(which you never did), you would probably die or enter a coma from the shock and never even get to go. That's how coveted they were. Once, Luke Foster had traded an entire season's worth of gossip points just to get in the know. Of course, Michael had fed him a false story about Jack McDougall having lice, and when it was spread all over the school, no one would get near that ginger's head of frizz for the whole semester. 

It's only when they pull up to Michael's estate after dropping everyone else off that Michael remembers Ryan. he turns around, but Ryan's not in the back seat.

_Oh well,_ Michael thinks absentmindedly. _They walk a lot in Florida, don't they?_

 

 

_That night, Phelps estate_

Fortunately, Michael's mother says that he can have Hermia back and they can move Ryan into the guest room. Michael throws his arms around her and screams thank you over and over again, then heads up the stairs with Hermia in his arms to celebrate. 

Unfortunately, Debbie's too sharp.

"Dear, where exactly _is_ Ryan?"

Michael freezes next to the banister. "Um…" His mind races. "Um, I think he forgot where the car was, and…"

"Are you telling me Ryan's walking home?!"

"Uh…"

"Michael Fred! You get down here right now!"

Debbie looks furious. "This is completely inexcusable! Who knows what could be happening to him?!"

Michael looks away. "Please, Mom. He's fine."

"No, that's- "

Ryan suddenly comes bursting through the door, eyes wide.

"Oh my goodness! Ryan, darling!" Debbie rushes forward. "Gloria!"

After Ryan's whisked into the kitchen by their housekeeper and given a huge mug of hot chocolate, Debbie rounds on Michael.

"I would ground you, young man. What you did is absolutely awful."

Michael rolls his eyes again. Gawd, why was she making such a big deal? It was kind of Ryan's fault that he didn't flag them down. "Okay, I'm sorry. But- "

"I hope you know you're going to let him join in on your sleepover on Friday."

Debbie fixes Michael with a do-as-I-say glare as Michael chokes on the air. "Mom- "

"You will."

To which Michael responds with a pout and a foot stomp. Debbie just holds her own, and eventually Michael slumps, defeated. 

"Ugh. Fine." He mutters. Does she think that's actually going to make them become friends?

 

 

_Next Friday_

Ryan sighs and leans his forehead against the cool glass of the window, listening to Michael and his friends giggling over some dumb Facebook status update on his phone.

Once he learned that he was going to go to Michael's sleepover, held in the other guesthouse(there's about a dozen in all on the Phelps estate), he wanted to keel over and fake death. Will had invited him to a Halo Reach marathon at his house that night, and Ryan was actually looking forward to it. He'd lied to Will and said that he was already getting sick and felt like he needed to just sleep it off.

But hey. Maybe Michael won't be all that bad. He seemed to be actually courteous to Ryan this morning, muttering a "Hey" and actually sitting next to him at breakfast.

Ryan can't help but notice that Will, Hayao, and Jack aren't the, well, most popular kids in the grade. They're more the geeks in the corner who'd rather discuss the latest World of Warcraft stats than focus on the shifting social tides of the school.

Ryan was, well, popular at his Gainesville middle school. Not a complete top-of-the-heap dictator like Michael, but a nice, cool kid who everyone went to with their problems. So he can't help but analyze the hierarchies.

And he can't help but want to be part of Michael's group. 

It's human. Even though it's only been a couple weeks, Ryan recognizes that some boys would literally kill to walk by his side. To be seen chatting with him. That Cullen, Conor, and Nathan are envied so deeply that they inspire homicidal thoughts. Not literally, but damn close. That they're the planets that orbit Michael's sun, in the galaxy of Walker Prep, and the rest of the students are just fading stars compared to Michael's blinding light. 

But Michael just radiates this never-ending, untouchable power. And Ryan finds himself wishing that he could bask in just a little of Michael's light. 

They pull up to Michael's house, and Ryan heads over to the guesthouse to get the last of his clothes out of the cramped rooms. He grabs his pillow, a few blankets, and his phone, because he's almost sure that Michael's not gonna be talking to him.  
When he gets in, the Royalty are all in a circle, whispering to each other on the floor of Michael's huge room. Ryan rolls his eyes and slaps down his stuff in a corner. He ignores Michael's laser beam stare, and they go back to laughing and whispering as soon as Ryan pulls out his phone and starts messing around with whatever.

Almost an hour goes by, then Conor starts up a killer game of Would You Rather. They go through a ton of questions involving "Michael's butt or Cullen's abs" and "Smell like Conor's burps or look like Michael Jackson", then Cullen lifts a finger.

"I got one." 

Ryan glances over his shoulder to see everyone leaning closer.

"So, would you rather a: have a ton of friends who secretly hate you, or b: be a friendless loser?"

"Ugh. Ton of friends who hate me." Nathan says with a wave of his hand.

"Same here." Conor yawns.

"And here." Cullen looks at Michael. "Michael, you?"

Michael hesitates for a moment, then regains whatever he'd just lost. But Ryan definitely catches it. "Oh, ton of friends who hate me, of course."

Then Michael's amber eyes zero in on him, and Ryan prepares himself.

 

 

_Friday_

"Oh, ton of friends who hate me, of course." Michael makes sure to let out a dismissive breath at the end. But it's the total opposite of what he'd really pick. 

He looks over at Ryan, who's just been lying around and messing around on his phone for the past hour. Time to get him over and out.

"What about you, Ryan?" Michael smirks. "What would you choose?"

He can see Ryan's eyes widen, and feels a twinge, again, of something like…guilt. "Um…" Ryan bites his lower lip. Michael wants to tell him to STAWP doing that, it induces chapping, but he withholds. "I guess I'd choose b: friendless loser."

Michael pauses, an insult catching in his tongue. Ryan would…choose the same thing as him?

Huh. 

A gawdawful thought flashes through his head, and Michael closes his mouth. Cullen lets out a sharp laugh across the circle from him. 

"Well, the thing is, you don't even have to choose. You already are one."

For some reason, Michael can't look up at Ryan's face, because he knows by instinct that that stings. That Ryan's hurt for real.  
"I'm gonna go, then." Ryan mutters, and Michael hears the rustle of his blankets. Before he knows it, Ryan's slamming the door to his room. Something like guilt passes through Michael, and he sits up.

"MP, whassup?" Nathan asks, but his eyes are glued to the door too.

"Um…I'm thirsty. Brb." Michael mumbles, opening the door and quickly stepping out. He runs down the stairs and searches the foyer, but Ryan's nowhere to be found.

"Ry-uhn?" Michael whispers, the foyer lit softly by the glow of the vanilla-scented candles flickering on the mantelpiece. He goes to the front door and unlocks it, pulling it open to see Ryan's dark form crossing the lawn.

Michael grits his teeth and scoops up Hermia from the floor, then speed-walks out on the wet grass, lifting up the hems of his silk pajama bottoms. "Wait! Ry-uhn!"

He hears Ryan sigh, and he turns around, his head framed by a halo of curls in the moonlight. It's actually kind of cute-looking, in a down-to-earthy, natural way. "What do you want?"

Michael flushes at the disrespect, but reducing Ryan to tears now would nawt help the situation. "Um…" He tries to find Ryan's blue eyes in the darkness. "I'm sorry about what Cullen said, I guess. He didn't mean it."

Ryan lets out a barking laugh. "You…" He makes air quotes. "You guess?"

Michael nods. "I mean- "

"Michael." Michael can hear the hurt in Ryan's voice. "The second I moved here, you've bombarded me with insults, actually squinted when you saw my clothes, made me walk home, given me a fake guy-period, embarrassed me in every single way possible when you KNOW I'm the new kid, and now you're inviting me to your party just to do the same thing over and over again?!"

Michael's speechless, for some stupid reason. Ryan continues, "Michael, I have no clue why you hate me so freaking much. But you don't have to keep hanging around me just to do this stuff. It shouldn't work that way."

Michael clears his throat. He wants to tell Ryan that he was forced to invite him to the sleepover, but it wouldn't really fit in with what Ryan's saying. "I'm sorry. But I didn't really think you'd be that offended." It's true. Maybe it's because he's developed a shield of iron over the years and could withstand pretty much anything, but Michael's never even cried in front of his friends, even displayed sad emotions. So he doesn't really know what emotional pain is like. How is feels.

"Well, it fucking hurts." Michael winces at the word. It does nothing for people's reputations.

There's a few moments of silence, then Michael closes his eyes, not really sure what he's about to do.

"You don't have to leave, you know."

He doesn't know where it even comes from, but the moment it leaves his lips, Michael's oddly aware that he means it.

Another sharp laugh comes from Ryan, and it cuts Michael to the bone. "Don't have to? I _want_ to."

Then he turns away and disappears into the blackness, leaving Michael stunned and clutching onto Hermia like a lifeline. After a while, he turns on his heel and stomps back to the main house.

"Fine, if that's the way it's going to be."

 

 

_Saturday_

Ryan perks up immediately when he hears the knock on the door. Will's coming to hang out today, and Ryan need actual human interaction rather that insult-ridden jabs as communication.

"Heyyy!" Will greets him as he bounds into the house, a bag of fatty, delicious-looking M & Ms in his hand. Ryan grins, slapping his back in a bro-hug. Will reminds him so much of Kyle.

As they're lounging around in his room, the subject turns to Will's family.

"Oh yeah, my brother's always bragging about his lax and how many Walker boys wanna be him." Will groans. "Matt. God."

Ryan's jaw drops. "Wait…your brother's Matt _Grevers_?"

"Yeah, my half-brother. Why?"

Ryan knows that Michael has the hugest crush on Matt. And if he's friends with Matt's little brother, then…Ryan has to resist cackling to himself. He won't be totally powerless soon enough.

Then there's a soft cough from the doorway, and Ryan looks up to see Michael leaning with his hip jutted out against it. He's wearing an outfit that looks like it costs almost as much as the estate itself. He's the portrait of rich-kidness, and it makes Ryan even more pissed. 

Will just smiles innocently, his eyes clearly soaking up Michael. Of course, anyone would die to even catch a glimpse of him outside of school. "Hey, Michael."

Michael ignores him completely, and Ryan swears he hears a muttered "LBR" under Michael's breath as he stalks forward, hand held out with a wad of blue fabric. "Ry-uhn. You left your Gator Pride shirt in my room."

Ryan takes it, careful not to touch Michael's skin. Michael would probably snap that Ryan was transmitting loser germs to him. "Thanks."

Then there's another knock, and they all turn around to see Matt Grevers, in all his tan glory, in the doorway. Ryan pretends he doesn't hear the catch of Michael's breath.

"Hey, guys." Matt says in his deep voice, blond hair catching in the light seeping in the window. "Sorry to interrupt, but Wills, we gotta go. Mom emergency!" 

"Awww, Matt!" Will looks up at him with pleading eyes. "I literally just got here!"

"Sorry, lil bro." Ryan notices his eyes flicker over to Michael, and Matt's expression changes. "Oh, hey! You're…Michael Phelps, aren't you?"

Michael smiles, and it's genuine. Ryan has to admit that it's beautiful. "Yeah. And you're Matt Grevers."

"God, never thought I'd meet _the_ Michael Phelps." Matt grins, and Ryan knows he's just flattering Michael. But it makes him seethe. "I'll see you around, then?"

"Of course." Michael adds in a wink at the end that Ryan wants to rip off his face.

Matt's blue eyes settle on Ryan, and he smiles. "Hey, you're Ryan, aren't you?"

Ryan decides to turn on his own mechanisms of war. Two can play at this game. He smiles shyly and looks up at Matt. "Yeah. How's it going?" He can already feel Michael shooting flame darts of hatred at him with his eyes, which Ryan is pretty sure are the exact color of Hell Itself.

"You treatin' my lil bro right?" Matt says jokingly, scrubbing a hand through Ryan's hair in a strictly-bro gesture, but his hand is really warm and kind of smells like the ocean. 

"Maaaaatt." Will whines, pushing at his highly muscled form to no avail. Ryan cracks up, glancing across the room to make sure Michael's still there, but he's disappeared somewhere. Ryan smirks to himself. Serves him right.

 

 

_Saturday, woods behind the Phelps estate_

Michael feels his toned legs propel him toward the stream, wrapped in the warming fabric of Under Armour's ColdGear line, and tries not to scream. Hermia nuzzles gently at his calf while running alongside him, but Michael can't deal with her right now. He angrily rips his earbuds out from his pocket and shoves them into his ears, the beat of Kanye's _Stronger_ pounding in. 

Running somehow helps Michael relax, but this time, it take much longer and an entire bottle of Mio flavored water to calm down. How dare that Orlan- _dull_ Floridian even look at Matt?! Puh-lease. He probably thought Michael would break down crying or something.

Well, Michael Phelps does not break down crying. Michael Phelps gets revenge.

Michael jogs angrily through the woods, the leaves of the trees falling down around him, and stops, panting, at the giant boulder that marks the end of the property line. He looks down at his phone and realizes that it's been almost an hour. 

He leans back against the boulder and taps his foot, sending a quick text out.

Michael: Revenge ideas. NOW.

Cullen: 4 what?

Conor: use the old crocs scheme we did in 8th

Nathan: …MP u ok

Michael sighs and puts his phone away. He has to go at this alone.

_Yeah, uh-huh, you know what it is_

_Everything I do, I do it big_

Wiz Khalifa isn't being quite as inspirational today. Michael bobs his head along to the beat, though, and tries to think of evil machinations to strike Ryan down once and for all.

Then a black form comes around the boulder and smacks right into his outstretched legs, and Michael screeches, falling on his butt in the dirt. Could this day get any worse?

Michael's eyes focus out of the pain and he fins himself staring straight up into the perfect gaze of Matt Grevers. He quickly smoothes down his dark hair as Matt's eyes widen.

"Oh my god! Michael, I'm so sorry! Here…" Matt takes his hand and Michael blushes deeply as Matt pulls him up. His palm is warm and strong, and Michael wishes he could hold onto it for longer. 

"It's fine." He says dismissively, regaining his balance. "So, you jog on this trail?" 

Matt grins, and Michael feels his eyes roam over his body. He blushes again and shifts his weight onto one hip. "Yeah. It's great. I didn't know you, um, owned the woods, though." He laughs.

Michael lifts one corner of his mouth in a carefully rehearsed, playful smirk. "Well, I think I'll allow you in them. Need to restore their natural beauty."

Matt laughs again, and Michael basks in the sound. Gawd, this GUY. "I think…" Matt looks away. "I think you handle that just fine by yourself."

Michael's heart pounds. Matt just called him. Whoa. Whoa. Whoa.

"Um…" Michael can feel his body MAPPing, the bottoms of his feet buzzing with that familiar feeling. He's reached his Maximum Alpha Potential. "So, your brother's pretty cool. We should hang out more."

Matt smiles. "You're pretty cool, too. We should hang out more."

Michael's ready to scream, but he keeps his cool. Reaching out with one hand, he tugs Matt's Yankees cap off his blond head and slaps it onto his own. "You know the Walker benefit auction coming up at my house?"

Matt nods. "My hat looks good on you."

Michael smirks. "Well, I think I'm going to put this up for bids. And we…" He stretches, yawning. "Can hang out more there."

Matt smiles. "It's a deal."

Michael grins back, not caring how toothy it is, because he just secured a semi-date with _the_ Matt Grevers.

 

 

_Monday_

"Eh. Ma. GAAAAAAAAAWD!!!!" The Royalty screams when Michael tells them about his woodland encounter with Matt. Isaac winces from the front seat and shushes them, but they can't stop squealing.

"By Jennifer Aniston's Living Proof line, if you're lying…" Conor manages, gripping Michael's hand, but Michael shakes his head.  
"I'm serious! He said that I was handling it just fine by myself!"

Conor lets out a screech and hugs Michael close, and soon they're all enveloped in one giant group hug, Michael blissfully at its center. 

When they pull up to Walker, Michael immediately ushers them inside and they gather next to his locker.

"Okay, but I have a top-secret revenge plan." He whispers it into their ears, and they all nod approvingly. "So whatever you see today, just remember that it's nawt real." 

Michael saunters off to first period, which he blessedly has alone. He heads for the back and locates where Will Posner usually sits. He places his stuff neatly next to the desk, nose wrinkling at the LBR fumes emanating from the people around him. 

Will walks in, nose buried in "HTML for Dummies", and Michael nearly vomits over the side of his desk. But he breathes deeply, counting to ten.

"Hey, Michael." Will smiles shyly as he puts his stuff down, clearly flattered that Michael has deigned to sit next to him. Michael gives him a once-over. Will looks naïve, easily duped, and eager to soak up any of Michael's power that he can. He smiles sweetly and leans in. 

"What're you reading?"

"Oh, HTML manual." Will says importantly. Michael nods, pretending to know what this is. 

"Ehmagawd, that is the coolest thing everrrr!" He makes sure to bat his eyelashes once, and he can see Will's already non-existent control melting away. "Cuh-yute tee, by the way." The thing says _Cool story, bro, needs more dragons_ and makes Michael want to go and huddle in a corner of Saks Fifth Avenue Men's Store and cry his eyes out. 

"Thanks! I got it at Target…spread the love." Will grins, and Michael fights to keep the corners of his mouth lifted. 

"So Will, you wanna hang out at lunch? I need to tell you something." Michael looks expectantly at him. He can see Will mentally drooling.

"Yeah, yeah, of course, yes- "

"Good." Michael slams his book open as the teacher starts the class, pretending to lean in and ask Will a question. "You wanna know why Ryan _really_ didn't go to your house on Friday?"

Will frowns. "What? Why?"

Michael smirks, moving closer to Will's ear. "Well, I invited him to my sleepover. And since that's, you know, kind of a huh-yuge thing, he just had to be sick and couldn't go to your house…obviously." Michael pulls away, seeing Will's shocked expression. He's already got this LBR kissing his perky butt. "Get what I'm saying?"

He watches Will's Adam's apple bob in his skinny throat with triumph. "Yeah, I get it." Will's eyes have darkened, and Michael knows that his success is just waiting for him to reach up and grab it.

"So, I'll see you at lunch, then?" 

"Yeah."

 

 

_Lunch_

Ryan watches Will walk across the lunchroom, smile at Michael and his group, and put his tray down at a fifth seat at the table, the only other one. 

_What the…_

Ryan keeps glancing over all through lunch, and eventually Hayao and Jack ask him what's happening. "Dude, what is up with that?" Hayao mutters, staring the table down.

"I have no idea…" Ryan starts, but then Will's getting up and heading over. 

"Nice ditching me on Friday, Ryan." Will hisses in his ear as he passes, and Ryan's filled with a sense of foreboding. He scrapes his chair back and follows Will to the clearing line.

"Will, what the hell- "

"Listen, Michael told me everything. And you know what, if you're going to just choose him over me just because he's a freaking alpha, then you can tell me. Not that you'd have the guts to." Will says angrily, getting in Ryan's face.

Ryan realizes that Will's talking about the sleepover, and he wants to say that he was practically forced into that, but he's at a loss for words. "Michael told you…"

"Just stop! I actually thought you were cool!" Will spits. "Guess I was wrong."

Ryan can only watch him walk away and feel his hatred for Michael increase with every step.

 

 

_Sports_

"Ugh. I'd rather _nawt_ , thank you." Michael looks in disgust at the sweat-covered lacrosse stick, thinking of the bacteria roaming on its surface. 

"Michael, it's required. You have to participate actively for at least half an hour, starting today." The exasperated coach says. Behind them is a pile of unwanted sports equipment that Michael's already rejected. "So you're going to be in lacrosse."

Michael wants to say that Cullen's father is a lawyer, so the coach can gladly take his lacrap gear and clear out. But he sighs and gingerly picks up the stick.

"Go throw with Ryan. He's pretty good, and he'll teach you a few tricks." The coach says, and that's the last straw.

"I am NAWT- "

"Do as I say, or your café and study hall privileges will be revoked."

Michael breathes through his teeth as he crosses the field, shivering even though he has three layers of clothing on. Ryan notices him and frowns.

"Did he tell you to throw with me?"

"If he didn't, would I be here?" Michael snaps, looking across the other fields to where Cullen and Conor are blissfully kicking a soccer ball around. Absolutely NO physical exertion needed, and here Michael is in the most violent sport besides, like, water polo.

Ryan glares at him. "What you said to Will was cheap."

Michael rolls his eyes. "Get over it and toss me the ball, Ry-uhn. Things had to be done."

Michael swears Ryan purposefully chucks the ball at his head, and he yelps, dodging it barely. "Ehmagawd!"

"This isn't your highlight, is it?" Ryan smirks, picking up another ball with his stick's basket and getting it ready. Michael grudgingly admits to himself that Ryan's really good. Luckily, the coach calls for a defensive drill to begin, so he doesn't get a chance to throw it. Thank Gawd.

"Okay, butterfly formation…no, make that just simple tackle move."

The next thing Michael knows, there's a ball in his stick and Ryan's running toward him. "Ehma- "

"Hold out your stick!" Ryan yells, and he brings his own down on Michael's basket in a check. Michael steps back, afraid his hand is going to be chopped off.

"You almost killed me!"

"You need to hold your stick out! It's just a check!"

"You need to not charge at me like the freaking Red Bull!"

"You need to stop lying to my friends about me, and grow up!"

Michael's eyes narrow. "Ryan, are you a diaper?"

"No! And- "

"Then why are you so pissed?"

That shuts Ryan up, and the coach calls for the next group to do the drill. Michael rolls his eyes, walking forward. But his foot catches in one of the many grass lumps scattered around the field when he gets in front of Ryan. Ryan reaches out a hand to catch him, moving forward. Before Michael can register anything, he's falling toward Ryan.

His hand meets Ryan's shoulder.

And his mouth meets something else that feels like… 

Another mouth.

Michael yanks himself away, hand covering his lips. Ryan looks just as shocked as he is.

His lip-ginity. 

He just lost it.

To Ry-uhn Freaking Lochte.

Ryan's expression turns to that of pure fear as Michael lifts his head, and Michael knows that his eyes are absolutely bone-chilling. "Wait, Michael, I didn't mean to- "

Michael's scream can be heard across the entire campus of Walker Prep.

"RY-UUUUUUUUUUUUUHHHHHHHHHHNNNNNNNN!!!!!!!!!!!!"

 

 

_After school, Phelps estate_

"Ahhh." Michael lets out a happy sigh as Ivanka kneads her palm into the back of his neck. "Ivanka, I can _nawt_ thank you enough."

"Jast doingk my job, My-keel." Ivanka tells him in his Eastern-European accent, rubbing over Michael's back. "But…" She wrinkles her nose. "Who ees this, er, guest you haff brought?"

Michael rolls his eyes and catches an unfortunate sight of Will whimpering into the massage table. "Break, break." Will gasps, rolling off and wobbling over to the snack table. Ivanka's assistant makes disapproving noise and washes her hands. Will's pale back shows the knobs of his vertebrae as he bends and stuffs half a low-fat ice-cream sandwich in his mouth.

"Listen up, Goodwill…" Michael says irritably. "The point of a massage is to ruh-lax. NAWT to gain an extra pound."

Will turns around, cheeks full. "Sorry, what?"

Michael sighs and presses his forehead into the soft pad. "Ugh. Nothing."

He can still feel a tingling on his lips from the horrible event at sports. Michael winces just thinking about his poor lip-ginity, stolen from him without any debate.

Awnestly, it hadn't been all that bad…but he shoves that away and makes a frustrated noise. It was something he couldn't replace, no matter how many coats of Nivea Men's he religiously applied to cover up the traces of Ryan on his mouth.

Michael sighs and shifts, signaling to Ivanka that he needs hot stones aysap. "So, Will, we need to talk about your brother."

Will lies back down on his table and Ivanka's assistant grudgingly goes back to work on his skinny, undefined shoulders. "Whaddya need ta know?" He asks, lollipop hanging out of his mouth.

Michael reaches over with an eye roll and yanks it out, tossing the thing into the trash.

"Hey!"

"Never mind that!" Michael fixes Will with a meaningful look. "So, does he ever…" He blushes slightly. "Like, talk about me. Outside. Of school." Gawd, this is getting awkward.

Will thinks for a moment, then shakes his head. "Naw. He doesn't really talk about anyone, except the dudes on the lax team."

Michael makes a mental note to spread a rumor that they have herpes. "Oh. Got it. Ivanka, we're done here."

"What?!" Will protests as Michael tugs his shirt over his head and tosses Will his own. "Hey, I wasn't- "

"That's all I needed for today." Michael smiles at him sweetly. "Thank you for your cooperation."

 

 

_Saturday_

Ryan hasn't talked to Michael for the entire week, and he'd rather not. Nawt, as Michael would correct him. 

He sometimes can't help but run his hand over his bottom lip, where Michael's mouth was pressed against it just six days before.  
He flushes and buries his face in his pillow, letting out a groan of frustration. Why, of all people, did it have to be THAT person?  
Ryan's known that he was not…heterosexually persuaded since he was in seventh grade and Tommy Kirkpatrick kissed his cheek at some girl's party. And he was actually saving his first kiss too, in case Michael forgot that. But why would Michael even give a shit about how he felt? Michael was much more important, of course, no questions asked, and his needs came first.

Sighing, Ryan gets up and roots through his drawer until he finds his swimming trunks. It's warm out, and swimming usually helps him relax. Maybe it'll take his mind off the…horribleness of everything so far.

Once Ryan gets into the slightly cool water of the Phelps's pool, he feels himself lose tension. He lets out a happy sigh and slips all the way in, doing a few laps of butterfly before resting under the diving board. There's a clink in the gate at the front of the pool, and Ryan rolls his eyes as he sees Cullen, Nathan, and Conor come in, tittering about god-knows-what. Gawd knows what, as Michael would correct him.

"Hey, Ryan." Conor says, dumping his stuff on a deck chair. Ryan gives him a brief nod and starts climbing out. No point in trying to relax now.

"Hey, wait! Dude…" There's something in Nathan's voice that makes Ryan turn back around. "You don't, like, have to leave."

Ryan's heard _that_ before, but he realizes something. Without Michael, these boys would probably be normal, likable kids. They wouldn't be alphas. They wouldn't be what Michael has made them into, what they've been with him for probably the entirety of their school lives. He might even have hung out with them at his old school.

But the thing is, they _do_ have Michael. 

"Um, okay." What the hell. Just go with it. Maybe he'll earn bro points. Then again, they're not really bros.

"I like your swimsuit, actually." Cullen raises his eyebrows, as if he's surprised that he's admitting this. "Where'd you get it?"

It was from O'Neill, in the discount section of Pacsun. It was ten bucks. But Ryan shrugs, coming up with a name in his head. "Oh, it's an Astrid. From Brazil."

Conor lowers his Ray-Bans to peer at it. "It's cuh-yute! Where can I get it?"

"Uhhh." Ryan has a plan brewing in his head. Taking a deep breath, he lies directly to their faces. "Well, you kind of have to get it special-ordered. And it's only for exclusive members. Sooo…maybe I could get you guys a few pairs, though?"

Nathan nods, reaching for Ryan's hand and squeezing it. "Will you? Please please please?" 

Ryan's about to pull away when he realizes that this is a gesture of affection that Nathan shows to Michael. It's natural, and Nathan lets go of him with a grin.

Well, this is going better than expected. Ryan doesn't know how he's going to get his hands on three "Astrids," but a warm feeling is bubbling in his chest. "Um, I guess."

"Yesss!" Cullen pulls at his Orlebar Brown x Barneys trunks. "I don't need these anymore…do you want them?"

Ryan opens his mouth to say sure, but then the gate clangs open.

Michael stands at the entrance to the pool, Hermia sitting obediently at his feet. He looks incredible, bathed in the gold light of the sun above them and in an ocean blue Emporio Armani swimsuit. His hair gleams with fresh light brown highlights, and his skin is perfectly clear.

Ryan gulps, stepping back from the Royalty in caution as Michael glides forward to give his friends all hugs. His eyes land on Ryan, hidden behind his gold-rimmed Gucci shades. "Oh." He says, one corner of his mouth turned up, and just his expression makes Ryan shiver.

"Hey, Ryan was just telling us about his suit!" Conor whispers to Michael. "It's an Astrid!"

Slowly, deliberately, Michael lowers his sunglasses and stares Ryan down, eyes passing over his trunks. Ryan swallows. "Oh, is it? Funny…" He steps closer. raising an eyebrow. "That I've never heard of that brand before."

Ryan forces himself to meet into Michael's eyes, blue clashing with amber. Of course, Ryan looks away first, blushing.

"Just as I thought." Michael smiles, reaching out with one thumb to run it along the seam of Ryan's trunks. "Nice O'Neill, Ry-uhn."

Ryan blushes even harder as Cullen lets out a gasp. "Of course, I knew that all along!" The others nod along with him.

"I know you did." Michael's razor sharp gaze cuts a hole through Ryan. "So, Ryan."

Ryan steels himself.

"Do you wish you lived in Antarctica?"

Ryan shakes his head, silent.

"Then why are you trying to be so cool?"

Ryan rolls his eyes, but it stings. It really does. He turns on his heel and flips Michael off, hearing the collective gasp from the Royalty and "Ehmagawd"s. He doesn't say anything else, just walks out and ignores the prickling behind his eyes. A hot drop of water slides down his cheek, and he brushes it angrily away. 

He's never known pure hatred before, but he guesses this is pretty close.

 

 

_Later that night_

Michael leaves the house sometime around five, gabbing on the phone to Will about "needing another spa day, aysap, you around?" 

Ryan still can't wrap his head around Will just ditching him like that. It wasn't like he _tried_ to ditch, more was forced into it. Debbie fixed him with a genuine smile and asked if he wanted to go to Michael's sleepover that night (Michael had nodded mutely from the corner), and Ryan had no choice but to say sure. 

Maybe Will just wanted to be popular, like all the other boys at Walker did, and he was just another one of Michael's eager disciples. The problem was, if Michael offered him a spot (ha), then Ryan knows he'd take it. There was no doubt about it.  
There was just something irresistible, all that power, boys who kiss your ass just to get a look at you, teachers who are intimidated by a single glance, friends whose parents are in the newspapers and are rolling in billions. There was just an appeal that Ryan knew he couldn't fight forever.

Ryan sighs and wanders out of his room, looking for his laptop. He hopes Hermia didn't grab it and chew it up. Not that Michael would care. 

As if on cue, Hermia comes prancing daintily around the corner, holding Ryan's…boxers in her mouth.

"Shit." Ryan mutters, getting onto his knees and moving slowly toward her, trying to make encouraging noises. "C'mere, Herm- "  
Hermia lets out a tiny snarl and backs further away. If Michael comes back and sees this… "Oh, you don't like being called Herm by me…okay, that's cool. Um, can I- " Ryan blushes, realizing that he's talking to a dog, for Christ's sake, "Can I have those?"

Hermia raises her fur-covered eyebrow and looks disdainfully at him in a gesture that is an exact canine replica of Michael, except less soul-scorching. 

"Jesus." Ryan's eyes widen as Hermia trots away into Michael's room. "No, come back- "

Ryan glances around himself desperately to make sure no one's hanging around, then he darts after her into Michael's room. It's dark and he can only hear the faint rustling of the pug's paws, and it's kind of intimidating. The only light comes from the glow of Michael's MacBook, which is…

Logged in to his AOL account.

A user named legallyblack pops up with a message on the screen.

legallyblack: MP!

Ryan suddenly forgets all about his boxers. 

If he's caught doing this, then he doesn't know what'll happen. But it won't be pretty.

Ryan thinks of all the awful things Michael's done and will definitely keep doing.

It's just too good an opportunity to pass up. Taking a deep breath, he sits gingerly at the desk and types. He remembers vaguely that this is Cullen's username from Michael's not-too-silent phone conversations.

gawdhimself: Heyyy Culls

legallyblack: hey bitch

ugh help ralph button-down or j crew polo

heeeelp

gawdhimself: ralph. Duh.

legallyblack: sry been agonizing for lyk hours…ew is ry-uhn still at ur haus?

So they even TYPED his name like that. Ryan thinks up an appropriate Michael-like response.

But then he stops himself.

For once, it's _he_ who's in the position of control. With a few well-placed little keystrokes and carefully crafted answers, Ryan could turn Michael's gold-plated world upside down.

He takes another deep breath, a scheme already building in his head.

gawdhimself: um yeah about that.

legallyblack: ???

gawdhimself: so i talked to him after and he said he was sorry. and u know, he was actually, like…cool. i mean, of course, not BLU cool, but cool enough.

Ryan had heard Michael use that term often enough to decipher what it meant.

legallyblack: WHO R U

gawdhimself: serious! lyk, once u talk to him…he's not all that bad. and his style isn't that hideous.

legallyblack: um…okay. maybe he actually isn't all that bad. Whatevs you say, MP.

gawdhimself: good. so will u try to be nicer to him?

legallyblack: of course. tell the other guys?

gawdhimself: yeah. 

Ryan lets out a whooshing breath. 

It actually worked.

legallyblack: any plans for tomorrow's outfits?

Ryan can't help but grin to himself. This should be...interesting.

gawdhimself: um lyk i said Ryan's not that bad. So we should try to adapt to the proletariat. character building.

legallyblack: …

gawdhimself: ahem. 

legallyblack: lol ok. what?

gawdhimself: i was thinking those mesh shorts are good. and tanks.

legallyblack: um sure. I will! actually! colors?

gawdhimself: 4u, orange and blu, 4 N, green and purple, 4 C, yellow and red.

legallyblack: ?!?!?!?!?

gawdhimself: sighing. C, did u NAWT read vogue l'uomo?

legallyblack: NO I totally did. And i know those colors are trending. Don't worry ur right

God. They worship him. Ryan's almost disgusted.

Almost.

gawdhimself: u know it, bitch ;)

legallyblack: luv u 2.

gawdhimself: ugh i gtg spa with goodwill again. :P its only 4 a little longer

legallyblack: lol whatever u need 2 do. cya babe

gawdhimself: cya

Ryan clicks off, eyes wide, and scoots back.

He did it. He really did it.

Ryan can't help but give himself a congratulatory whoop, bending down and getting his boxers, then tiptoeing out before anyone realizes what just occurred.

The tables have turned, Michael Phelps. 

 

 

_The next morning_

Michael taps his Halston-leathered foot on the plush floor of the car and waits impatiently for Cullen to come out. His outfit today has to get at least a nine point five, with a tailored navy Louis Vuitton blazer, Vince tee underneath, and dark red Band of Outsiders pants. 

He hears the clink of Cullen's gates and looks up, then lets out a shrill screech of horror. Ryan bumps back in shock in the seat behind him, but Michael could care less. He just needs to know what the Technicolor monstrosity emerging from the Jones mansion is. 

It wears a neon blue "Ball Till U Fall" mesh tank that looks like something from Sports Authority Kids, and hideous orange basketball that looked like Cheetos had been liquified and spray-painted all over it. Michael gags and covers his mouth, screaming again the moment Cullen steps inside. He's carrying a freaking NYLON BACKPACK. From Jansport.

"Whoa! MP!"

"EHMAGAWD!" Michael runs his eyes up and down the thing masquerading as his friend. "Who ARE YOU?!"

Cullen looks as equally horrified. "What are YOU wearing?"

Michael's jaw drops. "You shouldn't be asking!"

"What…but…" Cullen look around, clearly over his head. "You said…"

"I said nuh-thing! NUH-THING!" Michael screeches, pointing to the seat across from him. "Sit down and explain this right this fucking moment, or so help me- "

A look of shock passes over Cullen's face. Michael covers his mouth. "I mean, freaking. Just explain."

Cullen sits, still looking horrified. "Over IM last night, you told us to wear this stuff!"

"Um, Cullen…" Michael narrows his eyes. "Did you join the circus?"

"No, but- "

"Then why are you acting like a total FUH-REAK?!" Michael grits his teeth. His eyes can't take any more of this. "I was nawt, repeat NAWT, on IM last night."

"Oh?" Cullen spits, getting into his embarrassed stage. "Well then how was I chatting you? Answer me that?"

Michael's about to shoot back when they pull up to Conor's house. "EHMAGAWD!"

Conor's dressed the exact same way, in a highlighter yellow jersey and cherry red mesh shorts. "Michael ehma- "

"Just. Stawp." Michael puts his hand on his forehead, crunching it in frustration. "Don't tell me Nathan's like this too."

"Michael, what are you doing? You told us to dress like this!" Conor looks hurt. "Was this just some stupid joke?"

Michael's mouth flies open to spit out a jab, but they thankfully pull up to Nathan's house. He snaps his jaw back up. "Shush. And just hold AWN."

His mind reels as Nathan comes in, and Michael lets out a little whimper when he sees Nathan's lime green tank and grape-stain shorts. "Ehma…ehma…"

"Michael!" Nathan looks around at the other guys. They'd almost never seen their alpha incoherent before. "What's… "

Michael holds up a finger and makes himself think, but its like the loud, awful colors are blocking his train of thought. He gives up and buries his head in his hands, the sounds of Cullen huffing, Conor's hurt whines of "But he told us to," and Nathan's general confusion all blending together. 

He looks up to see Cullen's glare. "Well, fine. That was hilarious. But unless you have replacement outfits for us…"

Michael shrugs, feeling desperate. "You guys…"

Conor rolls his eyes, and for the first time, it hurts Michael in a place he's never really been hurt before. "Fine. Gawd, it's not even funny. Do you even see us?"

Michael's about to apologize, to insult, to do ANYTHING, but then they pull up in front of Walker. 

His friends don't even wait for him and hold the door like they've always done, just let it drift slowly closed. Like Michael doesn't even exist. Like he's…

An LBR.

Michael lets out a gasp and has to grip the wall to steady himself. When he looks up, his friends are still walking, not even noticing his distress signals.

What Michael doesn't notice is Ryan's quiet smile as he walks in the opposite direction down the hall, feeling more and more like Michael's power has already begun to slip.

If a few messages were all it took, then Ryan doesn't even know what he could do with a little more time on his hands… 

 

 

_After school_

Michael leaves in a flurry of stressed lavender-scented oil and low-fat yogurt-covered pretzels, claiming that he needs to "just ruh-lax." Ryan knows that he takes Will along for good measure.

Smirking to himself, Ryan tiptoes back into Michael's room and finds his AOL open, as usual. Pretty soon, dietshakeandbake starts chatting him. Conor.

dietshakeandbake: MP hawnestly what happened 2day

Ryan thinks of how Michael would answer this.

gawdhimself: um I should be asking u the same thing. I don't know what C told u but he was wrong

dietshakeandbake: ok but still

A perfect line builds in Ryan's head. He knows Conor's always trying to drop a few pounds, even though he doesn't have to at all.

gawdhimself: but anyway your arms looked kind of chunky in that tank…u sure that "green juice" is low cal?

Ryan almost can't believe how low he's stooped. He'd never in a trillion years imagine himself to get revenge on a person by making their friend feel bad about their weight. But then again, he'd never imagined himself in the situations he'd been in of late.

dietshakeandbake: EXCUSE ME WHAT THE HELL

gawdhimself: I'm serious

dietshakeandbake: Gawd what is WRONG with you?! Shut the hell up I'm getting off u ahole and don't even think about trying to keep iming me

gawdhimself: wait c

But Conor's "unavailable" alert is already flashing up, and Ryan smirks. Mission accomplished, again. Now, just to wait things out. 

Of course, within thirty seconds, goodboygonebad starts chatting him. Definitely Nathan.

goodboygonebad: heyyyy

gawdhimself: heyyyy babe. So ehmaGAWD.

goodboygonebad: ?!?!?!

Ryan thinks over a response for a few seconds.

gawdhimself: so have u ever had like a horrible, FUH-RESH secret that u HAVE 2 tell, but u, like, can't?

goodboygonebad: yeah…why, did u find out…

Ryan frowns.

gawdhimself: find out wat?

goodboygonebad: … 

gawdhimself: cmon N. U know I won't tell anyone. 

goodboygonebad: k. pinky swear 2 ur screen.

gawdhimself: Done. now spill

goodboygonebad: ok. so, i'm actually, like, poor.

Ryan can't stop himself from letting out a gasp. He had no idea.

gawdhimself: and

goodboygonebad: I go to Walker on scholarship. there.

gawdhimself: But what abt ur haus! It's huh-yuge!

goodboygonebad: I just stand out there 2 make it look like that. I live in the apartments bhind it. 

goodboygonebad: please don't tell anyone, I'm serious…

gawdhimself: babe thats FINE. I swear i won't tell!

goodboygonebad: good…u better not! now ur secret!

gawdhimself: ok so plz don't hate me but i actually think wills really cool. Like, i would sit with him at lunch cool.

goodboygonebad: EXCUSE

ME

WHAT

WHAT

gawdhimself: ah sry have 2go he's here. cya babe

goodboygonebad: wait no

WAIT

MICHAEL

WAIT

But Ryan clicks off of the account with a satisfied whoosh of air escaping from his lungs.

Michael's going to pay.

 

 

_The following morning_

Ryan watches as Michael and Conor get into their fifth catfight of the day, Jack spectating by his side. They can hear the commotion from across the lunchroom.

"C, I did nawt, nawt, NAWT call your arms fat!" Michael looks like he's about to explode. Ryan's never seen him this stressed before. 

"Stop denying it!" Conor looks teary, but angry at the same time. Cullen's arm is slung protectively around him. "I have a freaking screenshot of your IM, stop- "

"Conor! I was NAWT on my AOL! How many times do I have to say that?" Michael rolls his eyes, and Ryan can see the hurt spread across Conor's face. 

"Well, it sure looks like you did!" Conor sneers. "If you hate my arms so much, why don't you go hang out with _Goodwill_ instead of us? Thought you liked _him_ so much and all."

Michael looks like he's just been slapped. "Oh, and I guess you're going to say that Ry-uhn's Orland-ew style is wayyy better than mine next. And that I didn't freaking COME UP WITH the name Goodwill- "

"What?!" Nathan looks shocked. "You told me last night you liked him!"

"I didn't tell ANYONE ANYTHING last night, so you can just- "

"Seems like you're not telling us anything anymore, _Michael_." Cullen smirks. "Just accept that you've been slipping lately."

Michael gives him one of the most terrifying looks Ryan has ever seen in his entire life, and Cullen steps back. "Fine." Michael narrows his burning eyes. "If that's how it's going to be…Cullen, do I look like a V?"

Cullen's eyes widen. "N…no…"

"Then why would I follow U?!" Michael spits, searing Cullen with a death glare before stalking across the lunchroom and slamming the door behind him, Will following helplessly like a total LBR. 

Ryan hangs his head low and ignores Hayao and Jack's muffled laughter. For some screwed-up reason, he actually feels…guilty.  
But then he remembers Michael's merciless jabs and insults, and he snaps out of that pretty fast. He looks up to see Cullen, Conor, and Nathan pointing at him.

"Ryan! Over here!"

Ryan lifts a skeptical eyebrow. He looks over to Hayao and Jack, but they're busy laughing about some dumb thing on Jack's laptop.

In that split second, Ryan makes a decision that would change him.

Smiling in the cool, effortless way he knew Michael would, Ryan gets up and glides across the cafeteria to Cullen, Nathan, and Conor. He can feel everyone staring everyone, and he gets it. How Michael feels every time he enters a room. And why he just can't resist that. 

"Hey." Cullen mutters, pulling Ryan down next to him. Ryan notices, with a sense of foreboding, that he's now sitting in Michael's usual spot. He can smell the Chanel Bleu, can see the streaks of purple Sharpie left on the underside of the table and the patch of gum. Ryan knows that he's intruding on holy ground.

"Hey." He says back, with a small smile.

"So, I guess you, um, heard what happened." Conor says, looking away.

"Yeah, along with the rest of New York State." Ryan deadpans, and is rewarded with a loud laugh from Nathan. But it sounds almost…sad, in some way.

"You can, like, sit with us now, if you want." Nathan says quietly, playing with a loose string on his polo top. "We're sorry about all the stuff we did, but…you know, you're actually kind of cool."

Ryan knows his eyes are bulging out of his skull. "Um."

"Like, do you wanna hang out after school?" Cullen looks up at him.

"Yeah." Ryan exhales. "Yeah, sure."

 

 

_After school, Saks Fifth Avenue Men's Store_

"EhmaGAWD!" Cullen screeches as he gets to the Ralph Lauren section. "Latest season, coming right up!"

Ryan laughs, but something brushes against his butt. He turns around to see Nathan and Conor holding up a pair of green True Religion jeans up to his hips.

"Yes." Conor proclaims, and tosses them lazily into the black shopping tote. Ryan lifts an eyebrow and glances at the price tag when Conor turns away, and almost gags. They're $325.00. 

_Where do these people get so much freaking MONEY, _Ryan wonders. "Conor. Dude. I can't pay for these."__

__Conor laughs and waves his hand. "Nah, don't worry about that. C'mon, we have to get to Oscar before it's all sold out!"_ _

__Oscar (de la Renta, as it turns out) is all upwards of three hundred bucks. Ryan puts his hands up, surrendering as Cullen holds up a cream-colored cardigan of soft, rich-person wool._ _

__"Gorgeous! Michael, what do you- " Cullen turns around, then catches himself and presses his lips together. But everyone noticed it. "Whatever. Ryan, you're getting this, NOW."_ _

__Ryan shakes his head. "Dude. I. Am. Poor."_ _

__Cullen scoffs. "Don't worry, I'll get it."_ _

__Ryan's jaw drops. "Cullen, like…what…"_ _

__"Stawp. Consider it initiation." Cullen rolls his eyes in a practiced copy of Michael. "And they'll looks so ah-dorable at the auction!"_ _

__Ryan shrugs, a little apprehensive of all the money floating around him. It's all he can do not to look over at Nathan, who's been pretty quiet. But that would blow his cover._ _

__And if that happened…Ryan doesn't even want to think about it._ _

__"Hey, you wanna hang out at my house after this, you guys?" Conor gives them all a devilish smirk. "Just got hot tub renovation…spa day, anyone?"_ _

__"Yessss!!" Cullen and Nathan squeal, but Ryan grimaces._ _

__"Sorry, Conor. I have to be home by five." He rolls his eyes in what he hopes is a Michael-ish gesture. "Mom's dumb rule."_ _

__"Puh-lease!" Conor slings an arm around his shoulders. "Blow her off! She's not gonna care!"_ _

__Ryan can't help it, Conor's so convincing._ _

__"Okay."_ _

__

__

___Later that night_ _ _

__Ryan stumbles in through the front door of the guesthouse at 7:30, laughing loudly to himself at the video on his phone of Conor prancing around Saks, skipping arm-in-arm with him._ _

__He looks up, wiping at his eyes, and jumps. His mom is standing right in front of him, arms crossed. She's the second-most-terrifying thing Ryan's seen in his life(she used to be the first, but Michael's Satan-glare quickly took care of that), and he gulps softly._ _

__"Hey, mom."_ _

__"Ryan. Steven. Lochte." Her voice is deathly quiet. "Do you have any idea how worried I've been?"_ _

__"Mom- "_ _

__He sees her suck in a breath, and braces himself._ _

__"YOU DISGRACE! I WAS WORRIED SICK, ABOUT TO CALL THE COPS, AND AND YOU COME IN HERE AND LAUGH ABOUT SOME IDIOTIC TEENAGER THING ON YOUR PHONE, AND I WON'T STAND FOR IT, NO I WON'T YOUNG MAN, YOU'D BETTER THINK TWICE BEFORE YOU PULL SOMETHING LIKE THAT AGAIN- "_ _

__Ryan stands and gets himself through the rest of it, and Ike's still livid when she stops to catch her breath. "What is this?!" She snaps, snatching the Saks bag out of Ryan's hand. "Ryan!" She gasps as she sees the jeans. Along with the sunglasses. And the belt. And the watch. "Where did…what…"_ _

__"Cullen bought them for me…" Ryan mutters sheepishly. "Mom…"_ _

__But she's looking up in horror. "Ryan Lochte, you return these immediately! And furthermore…" She glares. "I don't want you hanging around with those boys anymore!"_ _

__Ryan's jaw drops. "What?! But- "_ _

__"No buts! Do as I say!"_ _

__Ryan feels himself getting pissed. "Do as you say? I don't think so!" He laughs, harsh and grating. "Why would I listen to what YOU say?! You're the one who dragged me away from my BEST FRIENDS in Florida, who I might never see again because of our stupid FINANCIAL SITUATION, and you make me live in this SHITHOLE?!"_ _

__"Language- " Ike starts, but Ryan cuts her off._ _

__"And you tell me to make new friends! Well, here you go! That kid up there…" Ryan points to Michael's illuminated window. "He fucking HATES ME, and you tell me to hang out with him, he's a good influence…" Ryan scoffs. "If you even SAW him at school, then you'd understand. I made friends. And you just do this to me."_ _

__Ryan's breathless too, but his mom's face is eerily stony. "Are you done?"_ _

__Ryan narrows his eyes. "As I'll ever be."_ _

__"Well, young man, you've certainly had a change in attitude since we got here. I forbid you to see those boys ever again. Unless you show a considerable increase in respect for your mother, I'm banning you from contacting them."_ _

__Then she turns and slams the door in his face._ _

__It's all Ryan can do to keep from screaming._ _

__

__

___Michael's room_ _ _

__"Hermiaaaa." Michael sniffles into his dog's soft fur, a small tear working its way out of the corner of his eye._ _

__The first thing he did when he got home was to lock himself into his room and bawl into his pillows. Although his friends had never seen him cry, even look hurt, before, when he was alone Michael sometimes had to just let it all out. So he did._ _

__Two hours, one denied dinner, three tissue boxes, and one ripped-up photo of the Royalty later, Michael still feels like an LBR. And that was just unheard of._ _

__He gets up creakily, wiping at his eyes, and looks at himself in the mirror. His cheeks are streaked and puffy, and his eyes are watery and slightly red._ _

__Michael looks down at Hermia. "H, do I look like an LBR to you?"_ _

__She just stares dolefully up at him and licks at his hand, yipping softly as she jumps._ _

__Michael heads into the bathroom and cleans off his face, sniffling. He will NAWT be observed like this._ _

__Sighing, Michael sits down at his laptop and logs into his AOL. A depressing "no missed chats" blares at the top of the screen. But all of them are on._ _

__Michael takes a deep breath and sends out a group chat._ _

__gawdhimself: hey._ _

__No one replies for a solid two minutes, and Michael's ready to break down again._ _

__Then he remembers the package he saw at the door when he came in. It was the stuff for their lip balms that they were going to make for the auction, to sell as favors. They'd even come up with four flavors: Michael, which was minty and fresh, Cullen, spicy and orange, Conor, raspberry and delicious, and Nathan, light honey. Just the memory makes Michael tear up again._ _

__gawdhimself: the stuff for the lip balms came today._ _

__Ten seconds later, Nathan cracks._ _

__goodboygonebad: ok ill come pick it up._ _

__Michael exhales, then clicks off. Better not look too desperate._ _

__Fifteen minutes later, the doorbell rings, and Michael walks faster-than-usual down the stairs. Nathan stands outside, looking a little sheepish and not daring to look in Michael's eyes._ _

__"Hey." He mumbles, and Michael steps back, indicating that he can come in. "So, where's the stuff?"_ _

__The coldness in Nathan's voice cuts Michael to the bone. "Over here."_ _

__He leads Nathan to his chandeliered living room, like Nathan doesn't already know the way by heart. Michael takes the box and hands it to Nathan._ _

__"So, it's just gonna be like this, then." Michael says quietly, studying Nathan. Nathan squirms uncomfortably._ _

__"I…can't talk to you like this." Nathan flushes, glaring up at Michael. "Especially since you know about, my…thing."_ _

__Michael sighs, exasperated, and feels anger bubbling up in him. "Excuh-use me?! I have no idea what you're even talking about! You accuse ME of not telling you anything, and you just…" He turns away. "Gawd! It's like I don't even know you!"_ _

__Nathan takes a step forward. "Don't you dare lie to me! I have freaking PROOF that I told you, I- "_ _

__"Shut UP!" Michael snaps, feeling the backs of his eyes prickle. "How many times do I have to tell you that I was NAWT ON?!" He screams, then catches the wetness trickling down his face. He turns his back to Nathan and wipes a hand across his eyes. "Just go. Just go."_ _

__Nathan's breath catches in his throat. Is Michael… "Michael…" He says, almost frightened. "Are you crying?"_ _

__Michael's mortified that he's already lost this much control, hot, salty droplets of water running down his cheeks. "No! I do NAWT cry! Leave me alone!"_ _

__But Nathan spins him around and Michael can't do anything but look up, knowing that he's at the most vulnerable he's ever been. His friends have never, ever seen him cry. "Shit." Nathan mutters, and before Michael knows it, Nathan's arms are wrapped tightly around him._ _

__Michael breathes in Nathan's familiar, comforting scent and lets his eyes close. "I'm sorry." Nathan mutters. "But I really thought you knew."_ _

__Michael sniffles, clearing up. "Well, why don't you start off by telling me what you're talking about?"_ _

__Nathan sighs and pulls away. "Michael." He looks down. "I'm poor. I told you."_ _

__Oh._ _

__That wasn't so bad._ _

__"N, why would I even care about that?" Michael scoffs, feeling more composed now. "I mean- "_ _

__Then Nathan's hugging him tight again, and Michael laughs shakily. His friend is back._ _

__"Gawd, I thought you were going to scream and run away." Nathan murmurs, and Michael giggles._ _

__"Do I look like THAT much of a prima donna?"_ _

__"Hawnestly…" Nathan grins. "Yes, you do. And you are."_ _

__Michael huffs, but he's smiling._ _

__Then the mystery of the AOL flashes through Michael's mind._ _

__And, his alpha power finally recharged, Michael figures it out._ _

__"Nathan. Oh god." Michael mutters, feeling his anger build and build until it's ready to spew out._ _

__"What? Michael? Oh shit- " Nathan covers his ears at the look on Michael's face._ _

__"RY-UUUUUUUUUUUUUUHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHNNNNN!!!!!!!!!"_ _

__

__

___Even later that night_ _ _

__Ryan's phone chirps from his bedside at nine o'clock. He groans and rolls over, hitting "accept call."_ _

__"Hello?"_ _

__"Hey, Ry." Cullen's smooth voice comes through the phone. "So, you'll never guess what I heard."_ _

__"Yeah, it's, like, incredible." Conor says cheerily. Ryan raises his eyebrows._ _

__"We on conference?"_ _

__"Yup. Nathan here." Nathan says._ _

__"Oh, 'kay. So, what's up?"_ _

__He can hear Cullen's breathing. "So, did you really hijack Michael's IM? I mean, like, really?"_ _

__Ryan's stomach drops. Closing his eyes, he decides to just tell the truth._ _

__"Yeah, that was me. Like, he was being such a bitch, and…ugh."_ _

__"Wait, so…" Conor whoops. "It was you chatting us the entire time?!"_ _

__"Yup." Ryan braces himself._ _

__"Ryan. That is freaking awesome, ehmagawd!" Nathan says. Ryan's eyes fly open._ _

__"Wait, what?!"_ _

__"Seriously! Like, no one's EVER pulled one over Michael like that before! Like, ever!" Nathan laughs. "Like, congrats! Never knew you were THAT crafty."_ _

__Ryan blushes. "Um…well I'm not, like, proud of it. And I didn't do it just to get you guys to hang out with me. But…yeah. I guess."_ _

__Cullen lets out a giggle. "Well, just, ehmagawd, Ry. Clapping right now." He hears a smattering of applause. "You're serious?"_ _

__"Serious." Ryan sighs. "Ugh."_ _

__"Don't worry about it. Well, we'll see you tomorrow, then, okay?"_ _

__"Yeah, okay. 'Night." Ryan murmurs._ _

__"'Night." Cullen says. _Click.__ _

__"'Night." Conor says. _Click.__ _

__"'Night." Nathan says. _Click.__ _

__"Nighty night." Michael giggles._ _

___Click._ _ _

__And then Ryan's phone is filled with static, and the buzz of being hung up on._ _

__Ryan can feel his stomach sinking through his body, heart starting to pound. But the physical sensations are nothing compared to the absolute terror shooting through him._ _

__

__

___After school the following day_ _ _

__The Royalty piles into Michael's car, giggling and whispering just like old times._ _

__Michael feels refreshed, powerful, fabulous, and ready to make some ass-kicking lip balms. The Problem is past. The group is reunited._ _

__And Ryan is getting his own ride back._ _

__Michael smiles to himself, looking out the window and feeling the afternoon sun wash over his face._ _

__If he's Rolex's new Oyster Perpetual, Ryan's last season's Timex Junior: uncared for, unfashionable, and unwanted._ _

__

__"Ehmagawd, NO, Cullen. Sunflower seed oil in first." Michael laughs, his hands coated with sticky lip balm mix. He gingerly picks up his iPhone with his teeth and removes it from the disaster area._ _

__"I'm trying, I'm trying…" Cullen wheezes, and then the container makes a squelching sound that sounds a lot like a fart, and they all burst out laughing, clutching their stomachs. Five minutes later, they're still at it, and they can't even remember what was so funny in the first place._ _

__Michael looks up, wiping at his eyes, when he hears a discreet cough from the doorway. Ryan stands there, looking sheepish and all-around awkward, looking down at his sneakered feet._ _

__"My mom wants to borrow an egg." He mutters, and Michael raises an eyebrow._ _

__He turns back to the Royalty and smirks. "Oh…" He yawns, gliding over to the counter and grabbing a huge one. "Of course you can!" He says, and as the words leave his lips, Michael throws the egg at Ryan's torso, where it splats onto his t-shirt, leaving a wet-looking stain._ _

__Michael doesn't bother to look at Ryan's face as he dashes out of the room, because he's too busy cracking up as Conor slaps his shoulder, gasping._ _

__It's good to be back._ _

__

__

___The next morning_ _ _

__Ryan slinks miserably onto the school bus, feeling like he's about to puke. When he surveys the open seats, the only one is next to Will. He refuses to look at Ryan, though, and Ryan rolls his eyes, finally finding a seat near the back. For some reason, the girls from Augustus Country Day are there, too, and their giggles just get on his nerves._ _

__The problem is, the Royalty are taking up the four seats in the very back, and the moment Ryan gets within five feet, Michael tosses his Moncler backpack onto the seat with a smirk._ _

__"Hey, Cullen, maybe you can _buy_ Ry-uhn a new spot." Conor says loudly enough for everyone to hear._ _

__Their high-fives sound like gunshots, ringing out in Ryan's ears and making him even sicker._ _

__"Ry-uhn, sorry, I'd offer you a spot, but Conor's _fat arms_ take up too much space." Cullen snickers._ _

__More gunshots._ _

__"Ryan, sit. Now." The chaperone says, and Ryan stomps over to the seat next to Will, managing to avoid eye contact._ _

__As soon as the bus rounds the corner, Michael stands up and clapped his hands. "Excuh-use me! Can I have everyone's attention, puh-lease?"_ _

__All the predestined LBRs on the bus turned around, eyes feasting on Michael's palm held up serenely. He had four lip balms in his hand. "I'd like to introduce the new line of cosmetics, co-designed by Miss Jacqueline Prince, Glambition!" A pretty girl waves graciously, and Ryan assumes that she's the alpha of ACD. "All proceeds will go to the charity auction coming up. Here to tell you more about the line is its president, Nathan Adrian."_ _

__Ryan can't resist. He turns around and looks, too. Nathan clears his throat, standing._ _

__"Glambition is an all-natural, non-profit product line of lip treatment, available for both boys and girls." He smiles condescendingly at a guy with crusty, chapped lips, who immediately covers his mouth. "We're offering the lip balms for the special price of five-fifty for one, ten for two."_ _

__Michael coughs and makes a pointed wink at the bus. "Not only is it good for you, but the Thompson boys love the taste, too, if you get what I mean."_ _

__Michael grins as he's received with a wave of whoops and cheers, and Ryan sinks back down into his seat._ _

__Will clears his throat, almost awkwardly, and Ryan can feel his eyes._ _

__"Um…I'm sorry I ditched you for Michael, Ryan." Will says quietly, wincing as Michael and his friends start heading down the aisles, handing out the lip balms and collecting wads of cash._ _

__"No, you're not." Ryan scoffs. "You're just pissed Michael ditched _you_."_ _

__"Same for you, Ryan." Will snaps._ _

__"Except that I never ditched you, _Will_." Ryan fires back._ _

__"Oh? What about that night you were 'so sick, you couldn't even move'?"_ _

__Ryan flushes. "Whatever. You probably would've done the same thing. And that was mandatory…"_ _

__Will exhales. "You know, it's kind of creepy how right you are, but…" He smiles tentatively. "I won't do it again. I swear, dude. I'm sorry."_ _

__Ryan feels himself melt instantly. Will's the closest thing he's going to get to Kyle in this place. "Yeah. Yeah, okay."_ _

__Will grins, and they shake on it. "Heart you, dude."_ _

__There's a dainty cough, and they look up to see Michael holding a mini megaphone. Ryan wonders idly where he even gets this stuff. "Unfortunately, we're all out now. But, luckily, you can sign up for emails and special offers! Conor's passing around a book now."_ _

__They take their cash back to the end of the bus and huddle, counting over the profits. Ryan ducks his head back down and laughs with Will at all the goopy lips smacking around them._ _

__Suddenly, there's a loud wail from behind them, and Ryan turns around to see Parker Matherson rubbing furiously at his mouth. When he pulls his hand away, his lips look like they got boob implants._ _

__"It buuuuuurrrnssss!" He hollers, and there's another yell from across the aisle. Nathaniel Hogan's lower face is also red and itchy-looking, swollen because of the lip balms._ _

__"My lips are on fire!"_ _

__Michael calmly pushes all the LBRs out of the way and grabs his megaphone. "Calm down. It's just the natural moisturizing effects working there way through. No biggie."_ _

__"No, we all have it!" A girl with frizzy black hair yells, and Michael rolls his eyes._ _

__"Noel, go call your mom's plastic surgeon."_ _

__Michael ignores her enraged bellow and turns back to the bus. "Um, just wondering, are any of y'all allergic to, like, nuts of any kind? Show of hands."_ _

__At least half the bus's hands shoot up._ _

__"Oh, um. Ew-kay. Thank you." Michael smirks and marches to the back of the bus, sitting down and giggling along with his friends._ _

__"Can anyone fix this, please?!" The chaperone says angrily, grabbing another megaphone. "I can't hear myself think!" She rounds on Nathan, who suddenly looks meek. "You! You're the one who caused all this! I'm going to make sure you get at least ten demerits, young man, as well as…"_ _

__Nathan's face crumples as she rambles on and on, and he buries his head in Michael's cashmere-covered shoulder. "I'm going to be expelled!" He wails, and Michael puts a protective arm around him. Ryan rolls his eyes. Drama queens._ _

__"Do you realize just what you've done to all the poor children on this bus?!" The lady screams, and Michael puts up a hand._ _

__"Excuh-use me, Mrs…"_ _

__"Hildo."_ _

__"Mrs. Dildo-"_ _

__"HILDO!"_ _

__"Whatever, Mrs. Dildo." Michael glares up at her. "Um, did your sweater quit its job?"_ _

__She looks affronted, picking at the neon puffballs on the itchy monstrosity. "No…"_ _

__"'Cause it's not really working for you." Michael cracks up, accepting a hi-five from Conor. Unfortunately, this doesn't sit very well with Mrs. Hildo, and she goes back to her tirade._ _

__"How rude! I'll have you know I spent thirty dollars on this! And did you ever stop to think…" Etc, etc._ _

__Suddenly, Ryan's phone buzzes in his back pocket. He pulls it out, frowning at the number. He doesn't recognize it, so he hangs up. It buzzes again two seconds later, and Will whispers, "Probably just a prank."_ _

__Ryan's screen blips up with a text._ _

__917-888-2012: Oatmeal._ _

__Ryan: LEAVE WILL ALONE!_ _

__Will had developed a slight oatmeal obsession, and is currently munching out of a full bowl._ _

__917-888-2012: U don't get it. oatmeal helps w/ rashes. Read it in GQ._ _

__"Will, gimme that!" Ryan snatches the bowl._ _

__"What?! Why?!"_ _

__"It'll help with the rashes and stuff. Legit."_ _

__Will holds on, though. "Why should I help them," He makes a disgusted face toward the rest of the bus, "When all they've done is treat me like an LBR?"_ _

__Ryan grins. "Just wait." He scrambles out into the aisle, holding the bowl above his head. "Wait! I can help!"_ _

__Everyone turns to Ryan with a gasp, and he holds the oatmeal out for everyone to see. "This relieves itching. I'm serious."_ _

__"GIVE!" Nathaniel grabs for it, but Ryan moves it away._ _

__"That'll be five dollars." He says with a smirk._ _

__

__

__After the bus touches down at the Saw Mill River Parkway for a rest stop, Nathan comes almost sheepishly up to Ryan._ _

__"Thanks." He mutters, and Ryan looks up in surprise. When he doesn't answer right away, Nathan repeats himself. "I'm serious. Thanks."_ _

__"Dude, it was Will's in the first place. Don't thank me." Ryan says carefully._ _

__"No, like, that too, but…um, the other thing. And not telling." Nathan looks around, eyes guarded._ _

__Ryan smiles. "Yeah, well, I kind of promised, right?"_ _

__Nathan flushes. "You know, um…I'm kind of glad I told you…and not Michael." He gives Ryan a small smile. "There's a second secret you need to keep."_ _

__"No prob." Ryan grins back. He looks away for a moment, making sure Michael's not around. "Um, I'm sorry about your- "_ _

__But when he looks back, Nathan's already gone, laughing with his group of friends about something Ryan will probably never hear._ _

__

__

___Friday, Phelps estate_ _ _

__"Ehmagawd, so how should I…" Michael musters all his control. "Ahhhhh!"_ _

__They're brainstorming ways for Michael to tell Matt at the auction that they, would, like, toe-dally be hawt together. AKA confession camp._ _

__"I got it!" Michael pats his shoulder blade proudly. Everyone leans in, eager to hear his plan. "Okay, so Matt told me he loves carrot cake." Conor starts to "ewww", but Michael puts a finger to his lips. "Shush! So…I'm going to jump out of a cake, wearing a tee that says 'I Heart Matt!"_ _

__His friends screech in approval. "EHMAGAWWWWD!"_ _

__Michael does a mock bow, feeling the silk of his pajamas sweep comfortingly over his skin. He closes his eyes and flops back into Cullen's lap. "Gawd…" He rubs his hands over his eyes. "He's so freaking HAWT."_ _

__They spend the rest of the night gossiping about their crushes and their dreams and just anything they can think of(at one point the discussion turns to how many times it's possible to burp in one minute, and Conor decides to test it out), and fall asleep in the soft moonlight shining through the curtains._ _

__

__

___Saturday, half an hour before the benefit. 7:00 PM._ _ _

__"Hermia." Michael groans, tossing a Citizens of Humanity button-down behind him in frustration. "Gawd."_ _

__He's agonizing over his benefit outfit, and for the first time in his life, Michael Phelps is in a fashion crisis. He curses Ryan silently, because if he'd been on that shopping trip, he'd have so many more options. And shopping alone is nawt an option._ _

__But it's like he has to struggle to find the anger he should be feeling. It's weird, like he wants to…forgive Ryan._ _

__Michael rolls his eyes, cursing himself now. Just don't think about him._ _

__Hermia nudges at his leg, urging him to focus on the task at hand. Michael smiles down at her appreciatively, then turns back to his closet. In the end, he decides on a dark red velvet Dolce and Gabbana blazer over a hipster-graphic tee from Maison Martin Margiela, with his favorite True Religion jeans._ _

__Michael surveys himself one last time, runs a hand through his dark brown hair, spritzes a cloud of Chanel Bleu in the air and walks through it, and he's all set._ _

__To dazzle or not to dazzle, that is the question, he repeats to himself as he glides down his staircase, breathing evenly in and out._ _

__Michael takes a deep breath as he turns the brass door handle, then swings the door open and lets himself out into the party on the Phelps lawn._ _

__It looks like the Oscars swept by and left a trail of fairy dust in their wake. Ah-dorable little Japanese paper lanterns adorn the entire perimeter of the lawn and the white tents set up around the estate. Soft Frank Sinatra music is playing, and Michael feels the comforting nudge of Hermia against his calf. He walks in what he hopes is a mysterious manner toward the white tent, searching for his friends._ _

__Women in glittering cocktail dresses and men in million-dollar suits stop him every few steps to ooh and ahh over "how big widdle Mikey's getting" and how "he's practically sex itself." Michael blushes furiously and dodges a woman with red claws for nails and a hideous John Valliano number from snatching him up. She looks like she wants to consume him alive._ _

__Michael spots Matt across the lawn, looking hawt in a classic military jacket(Alexander McQueen, Michael was about to get that one) and worn-to-the-point-of-adorableness Adriano Goldschmieds. The look is topped off with a tiny metal dog tag around his neck, resting on his muscular chest, and Michael flushes even more, looking frantically around for Conor, Cullen, and Nathan.  
Unfortunately, Michael's eyes wander back over, and Ryan's talking to Matt with Will, and Michael makes a face. He reaches down and picks Hermia up, hearing her distressed whimpers. "Don't blame you." He mutters. "Stilettos are fuh-reaking scary."_ _

__Before he knows it, Matt's right there, and he's smiling that irresistible sunny smile. "Hey! This must be Hermia."_ _

__"Yeah." Michael smiles coyly back. His eyes drift over to Will, who's munching on one of Ryan's gummies. "Will, you up for a spa lesson tomorrow?"_ _

__"Nah, I'm goin' to the movies with Ry." Will says, mouth full, and dips his hand into the bag again for more._ _

__"Good, cause you sucked." Michael mutters, and Will looks affronted._ _

__"I heard that!"_ _

__"Oh, and here's your hat." Michael hands the cap to Matt, who gives it a sniff._ _

__"Wow, I don't remember it smelling this awesome."_ _

__Michael blushes, looking away, and sees Cullen, Nathan, and Conor _finally_ arriving, and he starts to head toward them. But Will's hand catches on the sleeve of his jacket._ _

__"Wait, there's someone I want you to meet."_ _

__Michael's amber eyes narrow as he looks past Will to see an irritably attractive blond boy, wearing the exact same Yohji Yamamoto button-down that is currently stored in Michael's closet. Bitch. Now Michael has to trash it. "This is Rick." Rick grins genuinely, and it makes Michael even more pissed. He doesn't return the gesture. "Rick, this is Michael Phelps."_ _

__"Oh my gawd, I've heard SOOO much about you." Rick gushes, shaking Michael's hand. Michael wipes it on his jeans when Rick finally lets go. "Your house rocks."_ _

__"Thank you."_ _

__Then Will opens his mouth again. "Rick is Matt's boyfriend." He giggles, moving closer to Ryan._ _

__It's as if the world around Michael collapses in on him and swallows him whole. He can barely manage to choke out a reply. "Oh. Cool."_ _

__He feels something burning in the backs of his eyes when he sees Matt slip an arm around Rick's small waist. "Michael's gonna have you spa-ing next." Matt says, looking at Rick with something that looks dismally like…adoration. "Right, Michael?"_ _

__"Maybe." Michael says, feeling far-off. "We'll talk later, and I'll let you know."_ _

__He gently sets Hermia down and walks away as calmly as he can. "Oh, and it was nice meeting you, Prick." He calls back, not even letting himself smile. He can't._ _

__When he comes up to his friends, who immediately hug him, Cullen whistles. "Saw you chatting with Matt. He's so HAWT."_ _

__"Correction." Michael smirks._ _

__To dazzle or not to dazzle, that is the question._ _

__"He _was_ hawt."_ _

__"What?!" Conor gasps, hands flying to his mouth. "What happened?"_ _

__Michael rolls his eyes, like he's already so over the entire thing. "When I was talking to him, he laughed so hard, snot bubbled out of his nose." There's a collective "ewww" from the Royalty, and Michael waves his hand._ _

__"Ugh, you're actually right." Nathan surveys Rick, making a grossed-out face. "And that blond's really putting out."_ _

__"Good. He can have him." Michael smiles. "I missed out on a _lot_ because of that Matt Grevers."_ _

__"But you're back." Conor says with a grin. "And as fabulous as ever."_ _

__That alone fills Michael with that I-love-these-people feeling, that you can only get when you're with your best friends on earth. It doesn't have to be an epic moment, or an intense gossip session, or a tearful make-up. It can be something simple, even just the sound of Conor's burp, the scent of Cullen's Ralph Lauren Blue Polo, or Nathan's bubbly laugh. But Michael knows that he wouldn't give it up for anything, not even if that anything is Matt Grevers._ _

__And who cares anyway? Michael realizes that it's not a question. To dazzle or not to dazzle._ _

__Because they already have._ _

__"I spy four Thompson hawties, ten o'clock." Michael whispers, eyes darting over to the boys heading their direction._ _

__"Ehmagawd." Cullen's eyes widen. "Dibs on green bow tie."_ _

__"Oh, hey, I know him." Nathan's face looks mischievous. "Isn't that Ben?"_ _

__"Ben who?" Cullen asks, gaze still traveling over the boy._ _

__"Ben Zoyl Peroxide." Nathan whispers, and everyone slaps his raised palm._ _

__"Um, I didn't know people were supposed to have two noses." Conor giggles, and Michael has to grab his side to control his laughter._ _

__"That does it, we're SO over." Cullen smacks his lips._ _

__"But here's your chance. He's heading thsiswayyy…" Conor grins. "Along with his three ah-dorable friends."_ _

__Michael smiles and turns away for a second, running his fingers discreetly through the front of his thick brown hair. When he turns back around, he gathers them all close and smirks, feeling his MAP battery boot to full capacity._ _

__"Okay. Everyone start laughing on the count of three. Ready? One…two…three."_ _

__

__

___The Phelps backyard, 9:00 PM._ _ _

__Ryan watches Michael and his friends chat and flirt with the Thompson boys, idly sipping his punch as Will munches on the never-ending supply of sweets._ _

__Even though he's grateful that they're friends again, Ryan can't help but want…more. Of everything. Can't help but feel like he's missing out on something really, really big._ _

__The band started playing Hero/Heroine by Boys Like Girls, an old teen favorite, and Ryan grimaces as the boys all stumble onto the dance floor. Michael jokingly grabs Cullen's hands and spins them, as Conor and Nathan attempt to Irish step-dance._ _

__It looks so freaking fun that it almost pisses Ryan off. But that feeling fades when he hears Will clear his throat._ _

__"May I have this dance, Ryan Lochte?" He says in a fake, deep voice, and Ryan laughs._ _

__"Of course you may."_ _

__Five minutes later, they're blazing around the stage and making absolute idiots of themselves. But they're laughing so hard, and Ryan's smiling for the first time in what feels like a month, and he doesn't stop._ _

__Eventually, the band halts its madly crashing cymbals and blasting guitars, and Debbie Phelps gets onstage, looking a little tipsy.  
"Alriiight, folks! On behalf of the lovely Walker and Thompson Preparatory School partnership, I'd like to commence the first-ever school-wide benefit auction!" Debbie sways in front of the microphone, the sequins on her long Chanel dress twinkling. "So let's get this party started! Woo hoo!!!!" She throws her fist in the air and snaps her head down like she's Eddie Van Halen._ _

__"Oh my god, if I were Michael, I'd be dead by now." Ryan giggles in Will's ear. Will grins and points across the stage. "Look!"  
Michael's head is buried in Nathan's shoulder, and his jacket is wrapped tightly around him as if that would prevent him from being recognized. Praying for the moment to just be done._ _

__The bidding and coaxing and persuading starts, and Ryan's shocked at the sheer luxury of some of the stuff being sold. He hears "special-edition Bulgari San Pellegrino" and gives up on ever understanding these people._ _

__Then, Fred Phelps is suddenly clambering onto the stage, clearly a full drunk at that point, and Ryan's filled with horror as he sees that he's tugging his _own_ dad along with him, equally intoxicated. "Hey, hey, everyone!" Fred bellows, and Ryan winces as his dad lets out a guffaw that echoes around the estate, and probably all of New York. "Steve, my ol' buddy, and I are going to move this along and get the last item done with! It's a ten-thousand-dollar scholarship for Walker Prep, and whoever wins it will fund a lucky new student!" He's met with cheers and whoops. "C'mon, folks! I know ya want it!" Steven yells happily, and the bidding begins. But it doesn't quite reach the ten-thousand mark, and Fred and Steve whisper among themselves for a while, then turn back to the microphone._ _

__"Okay, so since y'all are so UNGENEROUS…" Steven giggles, throwing an arm around Fred. "Freddie here and I are going to start up a chorus of 99 Bottles to get everyone spirits up and their wallets flapping! And we won't stop until we get there!"_ _

__"You ready, everyone?!" Fred roars, and the hands of the audience start clapping to a beat._ _

__"I want my family up here!!" Steven says happily, and of course, Ryan's brothers and sisters dash up onstage and start dancing their butts off. Steven pats each of them on the head, then looks around, distressed. "Where's my eldest? Where's my son? Ryan, where are you?"_ _

__Ryan's face is on fire, and he feels like he's about to puke on Will's lap. He's never felt _this_ embarrassed before, and that's saying something, having lived with Michael Phelps for over a day. When his dad calls him for the fifth time, he can't take it anymore, and Ryan runs outside the tent and takes cover behind a rosebush._ _

__"Where are you going?!" Will yells after him, but doesn't get up. "Bad sushi!" Ryan screams back, surprised that Michael's signature excuse comes in handy at times._ _

__It's not long before he hears Fred's booming voice carrying across the lawn. "Where's my baby? Michael, where are you?! It's your own school, honey, and I know you want to help! I want you up here!"_ _

__Ryan's head snaps up, and he sees Michael standing by himself, looking uncomfortable. Not just uncomfortable, but full-on blushing, shifting his feet, and refusing to look at anyone. Michael looks human._ _

__The reality of this washes over Ryan, and he makes the second life-changing decision of his time in New York._ _

__He pulls out his phone and blasts away at the keyboard, then presses _send_. _ _

__Ryan: Take cover in rosebushes_ _

__Michael doesn't respond, even though Fred keeps calling his name. Ryan tries one more time._ _

__Ryan: Hurry!_ _

__Their dads are down to ninety, and still going strong. Michael finally texts back._ _

__Michael: Take care of Hermia if I'm not alive_ _

__Ryan: Lol_ _

__Then there's a rustling in the leaves and Michael Phelps slips behind the bushes, smelling like a combination of Chanel Bleu, roses, wet grass, and nighttime. He plops down next to Ryan. "Move over!" Ryan grudgingly gives up part of his spot. "Ehmagawd, this is awful."_ _

__"I know. They shouldn't be allowed near alcohol." Ryan rolls his eyes._ _

__Michael smiles, giggling. "Or microphones."_ _

__The next minute is pure silence, but it's not all that awkward, for some weird reason. Ryan breaks it. "Okay, so would you rather hang around here all night and get bitten by bugs, or get onstage and have a jolly good time singing 99 Bottles with our dads?"_ _

__Michael fixes him with a smirk. "I think we know the answer to that one." Ryan laughs, and Michael looks down. "Of course, we've always got oatmeal for the bites."_ _

__Ryan's surprised. "Wait, that…was you?"_ _

__Michael nods quietly, and Ryan remembers the bag of gummies in his pocket._ _

__And he just goes for it._ _

__"You want?"_ _

__"Hell yes."_ _

__Michael fishes a sour watermelon out of the bag and chews slowly. Ryan frowns. "Thought you hated these."_ _

__Michael blushes. "No, I…like, actually, I kind of love them. I just hate what they do to my ass." He smiles, almost shyly, and Ryan returns it._ _

__There's more silence, and then Michael clears his throat._ _

__"Ryan."_ _

__Ryan closes his eyes briefly, and Michael continues, not losing his calm._ _

__"I actually didn't mind losing my lip-ginity to you, either."_ _

__Ryan's eyes fly open, and he tries to process what Michael just said. "You serious?"_ _

__Michael nods, blushing again. It's really cute. "Dead." There's a raucous cheer, and it sounds like the dads have succeeded. "It wasn't all that bad."_ _

__Ryan tries to come up with something smart to say, anything, really, but he can only grin like an idiot. "I didn't either. But, like, about you, I mean. Um, yeah. I didn't mind." He winces, but Michael's soft laugh reassures him that it's fine._ _

__They spend the next hour talking about the horrible TV shows they watch, Florida(which Ryan somehow convinces Michael isn't _so_ bad), New York, Ryan's old school, the fresh gossip at Walker, how fat Amanda Bynes is getting, their noob of a tech teacher Mr. Lucas, and everything else in between._ _

__Ryan never wants the night to end._ _

__For some reason, he really doesn't want Michael to leave him there. The warm press of velvet against his side is oddly comforting, and hey, that's what they could both use in a situation like this._ _

__He hears Michael's intake of breath, and Ryan closes his eyes again, breathing in the night air's scent, mixing with Michael's. "Ryan."_ _

__"Yeah?"_ _

__"I had fun." Michael smiles. "Tonight, I mean."_ _

__Ryan blushes, and he's glad it's getting dark. "I had fun, too."_ _

__The loud murmurs tell them that the party's draining out, and Michael suddenly gets up. Ryan's even more surprised when Michael offers him a hand._ _

__He takes it._ _

__It's soft and warm, just how he expected it to be. Ryan wonders if his hand is too rough and coarse, too…Ryan-ish. But apparently not, because Michael doesn't let go until Ryan's standing next to him._ _

__Michael starts walking away, with that same determined stride he always has, and Ryan just hangs behind, unsure of what to do._ _

__"Oh, and Ryan?" Michael says quietly, turning back. His amber eyes flicker in the light cast from the lanterns, his brown hair shining like a mirror, and Ryan realizes in that moment that Michael really is beautiful._ _

__And that he can't be beaten. No matter how hard anyone tries, no matter how many times you're sure he's finally done, Michael will return, more powerful than ever. The best anyone can ever do is walk beside him. And let him nurture you with his light._ _

__He's unstoppable. A true alpha._ _

__Ryan snaps back to reality to see Michael's soft smile._ _

__"I'd pick b."_ _

__And with that, Michael turns on his heel and disappears into the darkness, leaving the words to echo through Ryan's head._ _

___I'd pick b._ _ _

___I'd pick b._ _ _

___I'd pick b._ _ _

__Ryan can't help but hug himself around the shoulders and laugh._ _

__

__

___Saturday afternoon, the Phelps Estate._ _ _

__Ryan wakes up to the insistent honking of a horn outside his window and groans, the light of the sun seeping through the curtains. He can't believe he slept until one._ _

__He goes to the window groggily, and his stomach drops when he sees the Phelps's Range Rover glinting outside. It must be waiting for him, but for what, he doesn't know. Ryan hastily throws on his favorite Gator Pride blue-and-orange tee with his neon green basketball shorts, tugs on a pair of flip-flops, and scrambles out the door._ _

__But when he skids to a stop in front of the car, the back window of the car rolls down, and Michael leans out, sunglasses tipped down so he can eye Ryan over their rims. Ryan starts blubbering out some excuse about oversleeping, but Michael holds up a palm._ _

__"Get in, loser. We're going shopping." He says, adding in his signature eye roll and hair toss._ _

__It takes a solid ten seconds for Ryan to register this. "What?" He says dumbly._ _

__"You heard what I said." Michael smirks, and the door slides open. "C'mon, or we're gonna miss the new Intermix opening." Ryan can hear Cullen, Conor, and Nathan giggling from inside._ _

__Ryan just lets himself grin, and he climbs into the car. They speed away as soon as he sits down, right next to Michael._ _

__"So, about last night." Ryan whispers, and Michael's eyes meet his._ _

__For once, Ryan can look into them. And not be afraid. "Um, you really- "_ _

__"Yes." Michael answers simply, and Ryan knows that it's the truth._ _

__He grins to himself and they descend on New York City, singing along to the radio and watching the sky pass above them, the sun finally breaking through the clouds._ _


End file.
